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A Slooktn0-(iilaa0 


BY 

GERTRUDE SKINNER ■ 



BOSTON 

SHERMAN, FRENCH & COMPANY 
1913 



COPYBIGHT, 1913 
Sheeman, French (Sr» Company 



©c1a346849 


TO 


FAR AND NEAR 
FEW OR MANY 


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PREFACE 


Holding the truth to be self-evident that ‘‘all 
men are created equal and endowed by their 
Creator with certain inalienable rights, among 
which are life, liberty and the pursuit of happi- 
ness,” I have written the following allegory. 
Understand, dear reader, the poor in my story 
are the Negroes in America, the rich are the 
Whites. If the argument I have made in defense 
of the poor is just it is equally and more so if 
accepted for the Negro, for thrift and industry 
can affect fortune but no man can affect his birth, 
and the lineage of us all is unalterable. God has 
no respect for persons, for man is not material 
but spiritual — the image of his Maker, who is a 
Spirit. It is the heart within and not the color 
without that makes the man. God is the Father 
of us all. Let us be brothers and shape into His 
plan “as water shapes into the vessel.” ^ 


G. S. 


CHAPTER I 


“My ! Farmer Hillman is strange indeed — 
‘eccentric’ gives one only an obtuse idea of his 
temperament. I cannot see why he chooses this 
dull, monotonous existence instead of the ex- 
hilarating whirl of city life. Were I perma- 
nently so environed I should die of ennui.” 

Imogene punctuated the temporary close of 
her monologue with a scornful curl of her pretty 
lips. She could conceive of nothing more un- 
bearable than life on the farm. Yet, by her re- 
quest she was on a farm; and she was a farmer’s 
niece, but the relationship was positively not her 
choice. Nevertheless, August Hillman, the 
farmer, and Otto Hillman, her father, were twin 
brothers and the only children of a poor couple 
who had wrung their support from a small gar- 
den and two milch cows. The two sons stood on 
the threshold of early manhood when death be- 
reaved them of their parents. The young men 
realized their loss but both were brave. With 
the pluck of heroes they turned from the graves 
to continue the warfare of life, and each pitched 
his tent where he thought it was best. 

Otto, who had for eight years been the protege 
of a wealthy gentleman of the city, chose town life. 
He argued that it put spirit in a man and made 
1 


2 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


him feel the pulse of life in every limb. August' 
had a great deal of sentiment. He felt that it 
would be sacrilege to forsake the old homestead. 
He chose the country. August was certain his 
sainted parents would favor his choice, for he 
would be far removed from the inimical influence 
of theaters, wine-rooms and countless other city 
evils so apt to start men down the toboggan- 
slide to hell. Being unable to agree, the broth- 
ers kissed and parted disagreeing. Time had 
not altered the opinions of either but each felt 
that his former dislike for the other’s choice 
had been increased. It had been growing for 
the quarter of a century, for the brothers were 
now together for the first time in twenty-five 
years. 

When Otto had announced his intention of 
visiting August, Imogene grew eager to see the 
man her father always spoke of as ‘‘eccentric.” 
She soon regretted having her curiosity satisfied. 
She complained that the farm was as dull as a 
tomb and begged her father not to stay there 
a fortnight as was originally planned. 

“To leave is, I think, the only prudent course,” 
Otto said as he sat with August on the porch. 
“Imogene is weary of the place — tired out in 
three days.” 

“Why did she come.?” August asked indiffer- 
ently. 

“To see a Hillman living as you live — know- 
ing no more of the world than is transmitted 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


3 


through the gossip of a rustic populace that 
learns to-day of events which transpired a dec- 
ade ago.” Otto spoke jocundly but August 
felt that the jest was harsh. “You are misusing 
your life,” Otto continued seriously. “In fact, 
you have not tasted life. What have you gained 
by the course you elected?” 

“One hundred acres of rich farming land, 
hogs, cattle, sheep, horses and poultry. And, 
Otto, I have gained that good woman yonder. 
We have been married twenty years but we are 
lovers still.” 

Otto looked at “that good woman” who wore 
a calico gown and a big gingham apron and 
stood churning in the shadow of the dairy. She 
made a pretty picture of rural simplicity, but 
Otto could not refrain from asking the question 
that her occupation suggested. 

“Twenty years ago, dear August, did you 
marry a wife or hire a servant?” 

August felt the censure and spoke up depre- 
catingly. “Well, to-morrow is market day and 
I must have butter as well as eggs and vegetables 
to take to town.” 

“Our parents lived out their lives in the same 
way.” 

“You mean to say I have not progressed?” 

“No; I could not say so false a thing. Our 
parents never dreamed of possessions as great as 
yours ; yet, you have failed to live. Life is more 
than the acquisition of land and stock. With- 


4 A LOOKING-GLASS 

out knowledge, the soul of man is dwarfed and 
killed.” 

^Xots of folks with more learning than I’ve 
got are not half so well off.” 

“I own that you are well off, but life is more 
than food and raiment.” 

‘‘Now, Otto, there’s no use talking, for I know 
all I want to know and you’re not going to stuff 
any new-fangled notions into my head.” 

“That is not my object; but, since your knowl- 
edge satisfies you, pray tell me what you know.” 

“I know that men must nourish the soil and 
till it if they would raise fine crops, but bram- 
bles flourish without such labor.” 

Otto saw more in the sentence than did its 
author. Banishing whatever figurative applica- 
tion he may have made of it he simply asked, 
“Why.?” 

“Because God lets it be so.” 

“Yes,” Otto said softly as he recognized his 
mother’s philosophy in August’s reply. 

“I know how to vote all right.” 

“The ‘straight ticket’ always, like the one 
father used to vote.” 

August found something biting in Otto’s 
words. 

“I know you make fun of me now, and you 
did not do it when we were boys.” 

“August, you wrong me. I do not ridicule 
you. I am only frank as you can surely allow 
a brother to be. I do not come to boast over 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


6 


you. I would not wound you for the world.’’ 
As he spoke he laid his arm affectionately over 
August’s shoulder. ‘‘My desire is but to lift 
you out of this rut, I wish you were — ” 

“What you are.” 

“Yes.” 

The brothers looked at each other and silence 
lasted so long it seemed that the conversation 
was ended. 

“You have done wonders in twenty-five years,” 
August finally said. “Everybody knows of you, 
crowds everywhere honor you, and you are sat- 
isfied with your life. Only some folks know me 
and those who would lift their hats to you just 
shout at me ‘Hello!’ But I love this life I live 
just as dearly as you love yours. If we both 
live as we ought, for the glory of God and the 
good of man, which of us is the greater 

“Neither,” answered Otto as a vision of the 
truth rose before him. “I was a fool but you 
have taught me to be wise. While I strive to 
be such a legislator as Jesus would be if He 
were in my place and you endeavor to be such 
a farmer as Jesus would be if He were in your 
place we are both equal in God’s sight, for God 
judges by the heart. Heaven pity a land that 
has no legislators and pity a land that has no 
farmers. It is no discredit to our beloved fam- 
ily tree that its branches spread over both coun- 
try and town. Hillman blood is honored by us 
both. God has made* us complements. I will 


6 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


never again let that mischievous spirit, Ambition, 
make it appear that we are antagonists. We 
are unlike — ^very unlike, but we are brothers still. 
As brothers we must love each other, honor each 
other, defend each other, and thereby receive the 
commendation of God who made us brothers.” 

While August was unconsciously leading Otto 
up to that great conclusion, Imogene was con- 
tinuing her soliloquy. 

‘‘I have been here nearly three whole days and 
have not seen a girl half so interesting as the 
woodpecker yonder, nor a man clever enough to 
elicit a smile.” 

She was so absorbed in the “interesting wood- 
pecker” that a man was passing by before she 
was aware of his approach. She looked up sud- 
denly. The man started at the loveliness of the 
face before him. Its marvelous beauty had the 
inning. Something unfelt, unknown before 
stirred within his heart’s center. He bared his 
head, bowed and went his way. Imogene simply 
smiled. 

“Well, a smile at last,” she mused, as his gro- 
tesque figure receded. “How grandly awkward 
he was! I was tempted to laugh. Surely he is 
Nature’s caricature of man.” 


CHAPTER II 


It seemed to Imogene that a century had 
passed since the unlucky Thursday that landed 
her on Farmer Hillman’s farm, but she knew the 
apparent century was only three days. Now, 
the fourth day had come. She felt that it would 
be one of supreme trial, for she must go to church. 
On the previous Sunday her father had invited 
her to hear Rev. James, a celebrated minister of 
her home city, and she had refused on the plea 
that she could not endure his cant. Yet she 
would rather listen to Rev. James’ oratorical 
cant, than be bored by a country preacher’s 
rant; she must submit to the greater persecu- 
tion. 

Usually August Hillman did not have a big 
head, but when he conducted a legislator and a 
legislator’s daughter up the narrow aisle of the 
quaint old country church that appendage 
swelled beyond its usual dimensions. He saw 
that the people stared in wonder at the strangers 
with him. A little spark of vanity kindled in 
his heart and burned there even while a deacon 
prayed a long prayer and while the preacher 
preached a long sermon. 

Imogene heard all of the pastor’s sermon, al- 
though it was unreasonably long and wearisome. 


8 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


Her motive for listening, however, made the at-* 
tention a reproach. If she should ever know 
more of his life she could, by remembering that 
sermon, know if he practiced what he preached. 
She had no thought of having her own heart 
purified by the lesson he taught. 

Imogene had very definite though esoteric ideas 
of what constituted Christians. She was not yet 
willing to be one of the sect. She always crit- 
ically examined those who were called by that 
name. In order that she might judge well she 
had carefully studied the Bible. The Bible 
taught much that destroyed all confidence in the 
claim of many who alleged that they were re- 
generated. Those stumbling blocks were often 
in her mind, but she seldom thought of the other 
class that the Bible justified. Christians were 
always on trial before her. Her testing tube 
was in part the epitome, ‘‘You cannot serve 
God and Mammon.” “What fellowship has 
righteousness with unrighteousness.” While lis- 
tening to the country preacher she was wonder- 
ing if she would ever have an opportunity to try 
the quality of his Christianity or that of the 
simple worshipers around her. 

The long service was finally ended. Imogene 
hastened out into the open air, thinking that her 
father was closely following. The tardy man, 
however, was halted at the door and detained 
there by a group of rustics, old and young. He 
stood grandly In their midst like one of the few 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


9 


real aristocrats of the world. Though conscious 
of his superiority — ^he did not make comparison 
on any fictitious line — his true nobility would 
not allow him to make a show of such knowledge. 
There was no better-than-you expression on his 
handsome face. He gallantly accorded the hum- 
ble creatures so heartily welcoming him all the 
courtesy he would have shown his equals. Many 
were strangers, some had played with him when 
he wore knee-trousers, a few had been his father’s 
comrades. He had a pleasant smile and amiable 
words for all and grasped their hard hands as 
if they were friends to whom he had returned 
after a long absence. 

Imogene stood at the churchyard gate. She 
watched, in disgust, the scene in which her father 
was the central figure. At last she saw her 
father approaching her. Much to her annoyance, 
he was not alone. The rustics swarmed after 
him like jealous courtiers around their king. 

‘^Just what I expected,” Imogene mused. 
^‘His democracy has driven the rustics beside 
themselves. Smile on that class of people and 
they will think you mean to make them your bosom 
friends. If they are introduced to me I will 
gather their scattered wits together.” Her look 
instantly grew cold and high. She would have 
frozen the blood in the warmest-hearted. 

The humble countryfolk reached the gate and 
stopped. Imogene anticipated what was next. 
The repellent haughtiness that had settled on her 


10 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


features deepened and chilled the lowly people 
before her, for they were human though of a 
poorer station than she. August Hillman was 
unnerved by her manner but Otto went on with 
the ceremony she dreaded just as if she wore the 
pleasantest countenance ever known to woman. 
She felt command in his look and in obedience to 
that command bowed to the rustics. 

In the whole group Imogene beheld not one 
interesting face. All were dull and common- 
place, but one face was plainer than the others 
and one form less symmetrical than the rest. 
The eyes of the ‘^extremist” were riveted on her. 
There was nothing impudent in the stare. It 
was a look of veneration; but Imogene resented 
it because it came from one of a class that she 
despised — a class of inferiors that she would 
never recognize except as servants. 

The “extremist” was no other than the “carica- 
ture” Nature had sculptured in human flesh. 
Imogene considered him physically a burlesque of 
man; she cared not what he was spiritually, for 
he was financially poor. Other men of the group 
bared their heads momentarily when they were 
introduced to her, but that one held his hat in 
his hand all the while he was in her presence. 
She accepted such marked homage as her due. 

“He honors my rank,” she said to herself. 
“That is as it should be.” 


CHAPTER III 


“Indeed, I shall call it ‘The Tombs.’ No other 
name suits half so well. And I am responsible 
for my being here. Think of it! Never again 
shall I be so indiscreet.” 

As she nicknamed the estate, Imogene drew im- 
patiently nearer the window and looked out over 
those “hundred acres” of which August boasted. 
A diversified landscape lay in picturesque beauty 
before her. Nature had blessed “The Tombs” 
with scenes worth preserving on canvas more 
tangible than memory. Therefore, Imogene, a 
sensuous creature who never traveled without art- 
ists’ materials, brought out her paraphernalia 
for painting. 

“I have no other diversion,” she complained. 
“There is no instrument except an organ from 
which I dare not draw forth music less solemn 
than ‘Show pity. Lord, 0 Lord forgive’; — no 
books except the Bible, some prayer-books and 
a few antiquated volumes that an old woman of 
ninety would not read. I am bored to death by 
this monotony : lowing cattle, cackling geese, 
bleating sheep — heartily sick of it all. And 
papa hurls it in my teeth that I am solely 
blamable for being in the midst of a people 
I abhor. I wonder if they have any society. I 
11 


12 A LOOKING-GLASS 

have never heard of a party, or ball, or — 

Mr. Hillman’s entrance into the room inter- 
rupted her thought. A glance at her proud, 
restless face revealed to him the unhappy na- 
ture of her musings. He showed no pity, but 
thought the annoyance she suffered would teach 
her a salutary lesson. 

‘‘Dear,” he said, tilting her pretty face and 
kissing it, “our presence at church yesterday was 
evidently an ‘alarm for the country folk to be 
up.’ They are up and doing. I have just re- 
ceived for us both an invitation to a reception 
to-night.” 

“How impromptu!” she ejaculated. “It is 
now nearly afternoon,” she observed, turning to- 
ward her palette. 

“Just be ready in time, dear. You must not 
keep us waiting.” 

“Why, I shall not go.” 

“Nonsense! Everybody else is going on as 
short a notice as yours. When you are in Rome 
you must do as the Romans do.” 

“Had I an age for preparation I should still 
refuse to go, for I object to commingling with 
this backwood’s-rabble.” 

“But for your choice these people could not 
disturb your peace. Now you must endure. I 
expect you to be duly dressed, child. The re- 
ception has been planned for you and me and all 
the country will be out to honor us.” 

Imogene smiled scornfully. 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


13 


“I should laugh, she said, “if I did not have 
for such presumption too keen a contempt. Is 
the idea of mixing on the same social plane with 
these people compatible with your sentiments, 
papa?” 

“Yes. They are poor but clean in morals, 
though backward in intelligence. If we have su- 
perior culture do not make it a thing of sup- 
position to them by keeping it far from their 
sight and touch. Place it under their scrutiny. 
Let them be in contact with it and its beauty 
will charm and inspire them. We can improve 
them more in a day by letting them see our better 
lives than we can in a year by telling them of 
better lives and saying to them, ‘Live such.’ ” 

A laugh, musical though derisive, rippled over 
her lips. 

“You forced me to it,” she said. “What a 
hubbub there would be if all the poor should 
clamor for wealth.” 

“There is nothing to be compared with it but 
the ‘hubbub’ that an oppressed people make when 
they cry for liberty.” 

His words were like a sword-stroke, but she 
rallied. 

“The poor have health and strength, and can 
labor for physical sustenance. That ought to 
satisfy them.” 

“Yes; in the same measure that breath should 
satisfy the serf and make him cease demanding 
freedom.” 


14 A LOOKING-GLASS 

He hit her hard but she would not give 
up. 

‘‘Fancy them arrayed in silks and broadcloth, 
— a swine’s snout ornamented with a jewel. No 
amount of training could render them fit for a 
drawing-room, and I would rather have a donkey 
drink cocoa from my costly china cups than 
entertain any one of them as my guest.” 

“You are not alone. Manifestly many Ameri- 
cans rather do absurdly insane things than rea- 
sonably sane ones.” 

She understood him. That last shot, strik- 
ing the wound already twice hit, vanquished her. 
Mr. Hillman sighed. 

“Such talk,” thought he, “from her. Ah! If 
I only could make her see that the dollar is not 
the man. Pampered in luxury from her birth, 
she has been rendered alien to the less fortunate 
class and is hardened against them as some peo- 
ple who, long out of slavery, know not how to 
pity their trammeled fellowmen but are zealous 
despots. She puzzles me.” 

With a heavy heart he put the complex riddle 
aside. 

“Imogene,” he said, “remember that these peo- 
ple are my brother’s neighbors. They live hap- 
pily together and neither party abuses the other. 
Therefore, let us not stir up enmity between 
them. Let us be amiable and win their hearts 
that they may have no occasion to think ill of 
any Hillman, but be knit to my brother in 


A LOOKING-GLASS 15 

stronger bonds of friendship when we go than 
when we came/^ 

The altruism of his speech rang with a kingli- 
ness that moved Imogene. For his brother’s 
sake she would go; for his brother’s sake she 
would ignore her belief in the justice of caste 
barriers. Inasmuch as it was the least selfish 
thing she had ever resolved on, it would be the 
greatest she had ever done. 

Imogene was ‘^duly dressed” and joined her 
father and uncle in the big sitting-room. There 
could be no competition in dress that night and 
she had sensibly chosen a gown that would place 
her as nearly as possible on par with the other 
girls. She wore no jewels excepting some ear 
ornaments. Her father complimented her taste; 
August and Mrs. Hillman looked in wonder at 
the beautiful face whose loveliness was not less 
brilliant than the diamonds that sparkled in her 
ears. 

‘‘What will become of our home girls to- 
night?” August asked, still looking at her. “The 
heart of every fellow will fall at your feet.” 

A fiery flash suddenly darted into Imogene’s 
eye. Did he suppose that she would tolerate 
the attentions of such an element? 

“And I,” she said, “shall make a pavement of 
all that fall there.” 

Otto drew her into his arms and softened the 
sharp words that had fallen on more ears than 
those within the room. 


16 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


‘‘Imogene would persuade me that she will ever 
be mine alone,” he said as Mrs. Hillman re- 
sponded to a knock at the half-open door and 
received from a brawny hand a parcel from a 
neighbor. The light flashed upon the carrier 
and exposed to Imogene’s view the plain features 
and bronzed face of him who seemed to be her 
evil genius. 


CHAPTER IV 


When it was learned that Imogene was not a 
Christian, the social function given in honor of 
herself and father quickly grew into a reception 
and dance. 

“Will you dance to-night, papa?” she asked 
mischievously. “Let your staid Baptist feet be 
merry. You are in Rome and the Romans are 
dancing to-night.” 

Imogene was with her father in the yard of 
the town hall. The ballroom was on the third 
and highest floor of the building. The town peo- 
ple and the residents of the country’s more wooded 
region were all proud of that tall hall. Its 
novelty made them think they doubly honored 
their distinguished guests by having the recep- 
tion and dance there. 

“Do not make a jest of my religious opinions,” 
said Mr. Hillman. “How many sets have you 
danced?” 

“I have positively refused to dance at all. 
For excuse I said I was sick. I am homesick. 
A little prevarication to keep the good will of 
your brother’s neighbors is not a great sin, is it, 
good father?” 

She looked at him with such a bewitching 
smile that, instead of chiding, he kissed her. 

17 


18 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


“I am going up to the ball again, papa, and 
leave you to your cigar. I wager the saintly 
folk who had hysteria yesterday are capering 
after another fashion to-night.’’ 

Imogene laughed and hastened away. She 
found the ballroom well filled but she failed to 
see there any who had posed as a Christian. The 
banjo and violin made a din of poor music; a 
pale giant called figures lustily; and Imogene 
watched the comical prancing of poor dancers as 
she would have watched the antics of a circus- 
clown. 

Not many feet from her she presently saw 
another spectator, — a man with a plain face, 
limpid eyes and tender countenance. The dis- 
satisfaction written in the plain face made it in- 
teresting and the melancholy in the eyes made 
them eloquent. Imogene pitied him for a little 
while. Quickly remembering who he was, she 
hardened her heart. Had a gentleman of her 
rank looked so, her pity had been proper; but 
she could never be in sympathy with a poor per- 
son’s aspiration. The fellow was strong of 
body, and able to do hard work the year round. 
He ought to be happy. She put him out of 
mind and moved on to another quarter of the 
room. 

Feet were flying merrily, banjo and violin were 
competing wildly; but, as one word, ^Tire!” was 
shouted in the room the music stopped and the 
dancers ran a race. 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


19 


Mr. Hillman heard the cry and rushed in- 
stantly to the rescue of his child. It was vain. 
The throng of terrified fugitives from the burn- 
ing building swept him back into the open air. 

In that sparsely settled district for which the 
appellation ‘Hown’’ was a glaring misnomer, 
there was no salvage corps. The fire was absolute 
monarch. While the pride of the town was be- 
ing reduced to ashes, men stood aghast and 
women wrung their hands and wept. Mr. Hill- 
man was dumb with grief as he looked on what 
he thought must be his daughter’s funeral pyre. 

Imogene stood alone in the deserted ballroom. 
She could not justly blame anyone but herself 
for her situation. But for her wicked curiosity 
she would not have been there. Now the crisis 
had come. What was left her but to die.^ Per- 
haps she could have escaped long ago if she had 
not shrunk from being jostled by those common 
people. But now when death seemed inevitable 
the despicable poor seemed less loathsome. If 
they would return to save her she would gladly 
go with them. 

The suffocative smoke, a forerunner of the 
destructive fire, now enveloped Imogene. Her 
breathing was labored and she was scorched by 
the heat from the on-rolling flames. In the 
smoky gloom she beheld the dim outline of a man 
— the man whom she had disdained to pity. She 
knew him, but not by his sunburnt face; for it 
was pale and ghostly. Intuitively she knew him. 


20 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


His hair stood. His eyes were wild, but his nerve 
was firm. He said nothing but acted his part. 
Clasping her in one strong arm, he rushed to a 
window, seized a rope he had securely fastened 
somewhere, somehow, and glided gently, swiftly 
down to the ground. It was glorious peril to 
jeopardize his life for her sake. 

“Brave Harry!” 

“Bold Tracy!” 

The crowd yelled tumultuously as the hero laid 
the daughter in the father ^s arms and disap- 
peared in the darkness. 


CHAPTER V 


To effect Imogene’s salvation more was nec- 
essary than to rescue her from the burning hall. 
Harry Tracy’s heroic effort was supplemented 
by a physician’s skill lest the severe attack on 
her nerves prove fatal. Finally the physician 
assured her anxious kin that he was the master 
and their fears were relieved. Once when a 
peaceful sleep settled on her, Mr. Hillman, who 
had been a constant watcher in her chamber, was 
persuaded to walk out. 

It was a day full of sunshine, songs of birds, 
sweet breath of flowers, and every luxury of 
Nature that summer suggests. 

Mr. Hillman passed by the little schoolhouse 
where he had been, much against his will, intro- 
duced to “reading, ’riting, ’rithmetic.” His par- 
ents praised, but he condemned the law that al- 
lowed him to be kept in a cabin and made to toil 
with figures, readers and copy books while he 
longed to be out of doors. It was better to 
build a citadel of snow than to do a horrid sum ; 
it was better to watch life come bubbling back 
into the brook than to read of it in print that 
could not tell the story as lucidly as Nature did; 
no beautiful specimen that he imitated meant as 
much to him as flailing nuts from the trees. He 
21 


22 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


was sure that every boy felt as he did — every 
boy excepting August. When he considered Au- 
gust who never incurred the teacher’s frown, al- 
ways escaped the chastening rod, and never com- 
plained of anything, he was filled with wonder. 

August was the scholar in those days, but Otto 
had his merits too. If ever a stranger lost his 
way and asked the elder Hillman’s for a guide, 
Otto was called to direct him; if ever the neigh- 
bors missed their stock Otto was asked if he had 
seen it straying. Otto knew the hillside where 
the prettiest flowers grew; the valley where the 
dew lingered longest; the pool where the water 
was coolest; the place In the brook that most 
abounded .with minnows; the place where the 
tallest cattails stood; where the river laid the 
pearliest mussel shells ; where lay the most curious 
arrow-heads, relics of the departed Indians who 
fought battles or hunted deer there before he 
and his inhabited the place. And whenever Otto 
opened the great chest he had made and showed 
his brother a large collection of arrow-heads, 
mussel shells and glittering odd-shaped rocks it 
was August’s turn to wonder. 

Mr. Hillman smiled broadly as he passed under 
the boughs of an old oak tree. Those branches 
had sheltered him many years ago while he lay 
on his back and watched their trembling leaves. 
The two brothers had been playing together on 
the roadside, but when it was nearly time to go 
home August hastened to gather berries for their 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


23 


mother. When he returned Otto said abruptly: 
‘^August, I ain’t goin’ to cut turnip-tops, and dig 
’taters, and give them cows fodder all my life. 
Is you?” 

August replied, ^‘I guess so, if I can do no 
better. I suppose you are a little lazy just now, 
aren’t you, and don’t want to do anything but 
rest in the shade.” 

^^I s’pose I ain’t lazy, nothin’ of the kind,” 
Otto answered, ^‘but I just ain’t goin’ to do them 
things all my life.” 

^^What are you going to do?” 

Otto hesitated. 

^‘I don’t know what I’m goin’ to be, but I’m 
goin’ to be what that man is who spoke at the 
courthouse t’other day.” 

‘^Oh, a legislator,” little August coached. 

“Yes,” said Otto as his treacherous memory 
supplied the term he had lacked, “I am goin’ to 
be a politicianer and have the people send me to 
the Leguslature.” 

“You going to the Legislature and leave 
father and mother!” August looked surprised. 
“Oh, Otto, what would they do without you and 
me? You know they are looking for us to grow 
up and help them.” 

“I can help them if I’m a legislator, can’t I?” 

“Perhaps so ; but I would never leave them for 
all the legislatures in the world. I mean to stay 
right here and make this whole farm ours. 
Mother will be happy.” 


24 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


Thinking of that mother, he ran down the road 
with his hat full of berries, his little naked feet 
burnt by the hot dust, his heart beating lightly 
at the thought of how refreshing his gift would 
be to her who was more to him than all the leg- 
islatures in the world. Otto rose up and 
strolled down to the river. 

After the lapse of more than the quarter of a 
century that river looked the same. The grass 
was just as green on the bank where he had often 
loitered and whiled away many golden moments 
with his cornstalk fiddle. The water flowed with 
the same soft murmur that had charmed his 
childish ears, the sky was just as blue. Only 
himself seemed altered. Mr. Hillman sighed. 

It seemed that his sigh was answered by an- 
other; or was it the wind singing to the leaves.? 
He believed the sound had emanated from a hu- 
man throat, and so walked on in search of proof. 
Proof he soon found, for a few feet farther, 
where rocks and shrubbery made a snug place of 
concealment, he discovered a man alternately 
feeding his mouth and his brain from a dinner- 
pail and some books. 

The student had not heard Mr. Hillman, he 
did not see him, but felt his presence and looked 
up. His face plainly showed his embarrassment. 
Mr. Hillman at once caught the interpretation 
of the young man’s confusion and smiled benignly 
on him. By that smile he was sufficiently recov- 
ered to greet the intruder. 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


25 


‘^How is Miss Hillman?” he asked. 

“Very much improved, and steadily growing 
better.” 

“She received my flowers?” 

“Yes ; and I placed them near her. Whenever 
she opens her eyes they rest on those blossoms.” 

“Does she know I sent them?” 

“No, Harry, I did not tell her; we are forbid- 
den to talk much.” 

It would not have required many words to tell 
her, but Harry — simple heart ! — was satisfied 
with the explanation Mr. Hillman gave with a 
smarting conscience. 

During the while Harry had tried to hide his 
books and papers. 

“Ah, my young friend,” said Mr. Hillman, “do 
not be afraid; American civilization has now 
reached a stage where the acquisition of knowl- 
edge is no crime. Do not be ashamed; people 
older than you have studied texts simpler than 
this. Let me help you. We can have an acad- 
emy right here.” 

He who wore the fine linen suit sat down on 
the rude stone by him who wore patched over- 
alls. 

“Why, you had nearly completed the common 
school course.” 

“Not when I was forced to discontinue, sir. I 
brought myself up to this mark.” 

“Ambitious, energetic boy ! But, son, this 
hour was given you for recreation. Your field- 


26 A LOOKING-GLASS 

comrades will surpass you when you return* to 
the harvest.” 

‘‘I cannot believe it, for I have a determined 
spirit. As for the recreation you speak of I 
gladly sacrifice it daily for the sake of drawing 
more riches from these books.” 

^‘What if a fairy should come and say, ‘You 
may wish for something and you shall have your 
wish.’ ” 

“Fd wish for an education, of course; but I 
don’t believe in fairies.” 

“Hard man! Well, if the tales of Aladdin and 
Jack stealing the Giant’s hen have never made 
your eyes glisten you have never been a boy.” 

“Oh, yes, they did delight me years ago,” 
Harry confessed. “My sister used to tell them 
to me. How I wished for Jack’s hen and that 
wonderful lamp!” 

“It is fortunate that you believed in fairies 
‘once upon a time.’ Time travels in a circle; 
hence, you shall believe in fairies again.” 

Harry smiled incredulously. 

“Listen, Harry. I have a story to tell: The 
two fairies, kindness and gratitude, who have 
their homes in good men’s breasts, met at this 
very stream long ago and blessed me.” He 
paused a moment and looked intently into Harry’s 
face. 

“Your deed several nights since wore the guise 
of heroism, but it was kindness ; and to-day 
gratitude, in my heart, is here at the river with 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


27 


your partial reward. You have wished for some- 
thing and you shall have your wish. I will take 
you under my tutelage for the remainder of the 
summer and at its close will place you in one of 
the best institutions in America. For four years 
I will maintain you there. Do you hear?’^ 

Harry heard, but it was like hearing in a dream, 
or like passing from darkness into marvelous 
light. He was dazzled. He did not speak, but 
Mr. Hillman read in his soulful eyes the joy and 
thankfulness of his heart. 


CHAPTER VI 


Imogene and her father were lunching alone 
in the old-fashioned and quaintly furnished din- 
ing-room to which the young lady had given an 
artistic garnish with a few wild green things and 
flowers. 

Imogene was quite strong again — strong 
enough to ramble in search of flowers and strong 
enough, also, to talk quite saucily. 

“I will not do it,” she said as she minced on a 
peach for which vexation left her but little ap- 
petite. 

‘‘You must or rue it,” he answered sternly, 
raising his eyes from his plate to her face. 

“Let the alternative be what it will, I will never 
meet that man face to face and thank him for 
anything he has done. He shall have no other 
opportunity to gaze on me as if I were no better 
than a lady’s maid. I am surprised that you who 
should protect me are willing to expose me to his 
insolence.” 

“I am surprised that you should be of an age 
to teach your father his duty.” 

Being much aflFected by his accent, she left her 
place at the table and, going up to him, laid her 
beautiful arms around his neck. 

“Dear papa,” she said, “please forgive my 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


29 


harsh words. I love you too well to willingly 
wound you, even a little. There is always peace 
and good feeling between us except when you de- 
fend those inferior people whom we can never see 
in the same light. Inasmuch as Harry is one 
of that despicable class I cannot tolerate him, 
except as a servant. True, he saved my life. 
For that you have promised him some educational 
improvement. You are generous to a fault; but 
rather inconsistent. Lily, our cook, has saved 
my life by giving me food in-season; Ben has 
saved my life by furnishing our house with a 
comfortable, even temperature throughout the 
coldest winters. Still, you have never bade me 
go to either of them and make a speech of thanks 
and you have never given them anything but 
their wages. With them you have used discre- 
tion. Why make such an ado over Harry? 
He will forget himself. I entreat you to remem- 
ber what he is. I am not in sympathy with any- 
thing that tends to make the poor presume to be 
rich folk’s equals.” 

Mr. Hillman put her arms off gently and 
turned away, half in pity and half in anger or 
disgust. 

‘^Ah,” thought he, ^^if she would only remem- 
ber what she is — mere humanity — she would 
surely fraternize all mankind. Death awaits her 
as it awaits the poor, and her life, like theirs, will 
be judged by what she does, not what she pos- 
sesses. She forgets that the status of her 


30 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


grandparents was the same as the status of this 
lowly people she deems too inferior to be her equal. 
She forgets her father’s long struggle of years 
before he reached the height he has; and will 
not admit that these people if helped and not 
hindered, if encouraged and not abused, will most 
probably have posterity as great as she. Who 
would have prophesied when I was an ignorant 
barefoot boy in tatters that I should now be the 
‘Honorable Mr. Hillman.?^’ How did it happen? 
All through a helping hand, but not rebuffs and 
sneers. 

“I know the poor are a wretched multitude of 
which no one wishes to form a part, but the poor 
are as human as the rich and should be always 
dealt with as human beings, fellowmen and 
brothers. She is glad she was saved, but scorns 
to pour out gratitude to her savior because he is 
poor. Just to feel glad might suffice if her res- 
cue had been effected by a mere automaton, but 
for human flesh and blood it is not enough. 

“Why should the poor be hated more than any 
other element of mankind? Some poor have all 
the virtues of the rich ; some rich have all the 
vices of the poor. It is virtue that makes one 
person superior to another, and people should be 
judged and recognized on their individual merit, 
regardless of the class to which they belong. 
But I cannot appeal to her reason, she has none, 
for she is prejudiced. Prejudice is as mad as a 
whirlwind; therefore, it shall reap a storm. 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


31 


“0 God, teach me how to save her. Prejudice 
is the flood that quenches the divine Are Thou 
hast lighted in mankind and they in whom its 
billows roll are but base imitations of man — male 
or female. God, make her worthy yet to be 
called by that noble, holy name, — woman.” 

He faced about to speak to Imogene, but she 
had gone. He caught a glimpse of her silver- 
gray dress and white parasol as she passed out 
of the garden. 

Imogene did not stop until she had reached the 
river. There she sat down and began to build 
up the waste places that Mr. Hillman’s opin- 
ions had made in the walls of her creed. She 
made them strong and stationed heresies at every 
point of possible attack. Believing her faith 
secure, she felt at ease, and began singing. She 
did not sing loudly; still, the wandering breezes 
bore the sound to the ears of a man in coarse 
overalls and large farm hat. His brawny arms 
were bare to the elbow and his sunburnt face was 
pricked by the heat. He, too, was at the river. 
When he heard the voice he rose up and went to- 
ward the sound. The charm lay solely in the 
music, for not a word was intelligible to him. 
Imogene sang a German ballad. 

At last the man was face to face with Imogene. 
He was not surprised to find that she and the 
sweet singer were one; for since the day when 
first he heard her speak he had thought of her in 
connection with all music that enraptured him. 


32 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


She looked to him like a goddess enthroned on 
the green bank damasked with sunshine and 
shade. 

Harry Tracy loved her. He knew it; he felt 
it in the deep center of his great heart. The 
passion was irresistible. It blinded him, it ab- 
sorbed his thought and regulated his action. He 
loved her. What time or place was more fit for 
him to tell her so? All nature was in harmony 
with his mood. The amorous kisses of the sun 
had flushed the pretty faces of the sweet wild 
flowers; the wind was singing a love ditty to the 
leaves. Was not man more than sun or wind.'^ 
Why should he fear to speak.? 

It never occurred to him that princesses do 
no wrong in rejecting the suit of peasants. He 
no longer remembered that Imogene was a 
wealthy legislator’s only child, and he was a poor 
orphan and hireling. He forgot that she was 
a lady of education and accomplishments, and 
that his ^‘finishing” school was the little incom- 
modious house where he learned the alphabet. It 
was impossible for his mind to give room to 
things so material. Diviner thoughts crushed 
out such coarse matter. Love is spiritual and 
has to do with spiritual things. Imogene’s em- 
bellishments of gold and rank were as if they 
were not. Harry loved her and could no longer 
hold his peace. He had no oratory to assist him 
and needed none, for it was his soul that would 
speak. Had Imogene not listened with her 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


prejudices she had heard poetry in every word, 
for love, however untutored, is eloquent. His 
heart poured out itself, like spirit addressing 
spirit. 

Great souls forever ignore the fictitious lines 
of demarcation that perverse man draws. But 
Imogene — narrow soul ! — ^was ever governed by 
those lines that divide man from man as beast 
from bird. She remembered that she was rich 
and Harry was poor. Her proud lips quivered 
with disdain. Harry’s avowal of love was a 
gross insult. She was too incensed for words 
with which to rebuke him. Moreover, words were 
inadequate to punish such effrontery. A look 
would level him to his proper plane. She gave 
him one look of indescribable scorn and swept by 
him like a formidable princess in triumphal 
march. 


CHAPTER VII 


Imogene reviewed what she had done. She 
had only acted as the circumstances compelled 
her. It was her duty to defeat, no matter by 
what means, any attempt to tear down the bar- 
rier of caste distinction. She was, indeed, a 
riddle. 

Mr. Hillman used to sit for hours thinking of 
nothing but his puzzle. What sin had he or his 
fathers committed that he should daily meet at 
his own hearth a problem that vexed his soul 'and 
seemed insolvable? 

Imogene would have thought it most absurd 
to suppose that the English, because they were 
English, were superior to the Irish. She was an- 
gered by various reports cabled from Russia, for 
she felt that race animosity fostered the persecu- 
tion of the Jews over there. Such thought and 
such enraged feeling were due to the fact that 
she had accepted one great truth: Race lines 
are fictitious and ‘^every human heart is human,” 
however differentiated may be the classification of 
the flesh and blood by which it is surrounded. 
But she would have condemned a foolish prince 
for letting his wise servant rule, or a king for 
dining with a peasant; for, in her heart, she re- 
jected the other great truth: Lines of rank are 
34 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


35 


superficial and as powerless as racial differences 
to make one high or low, superior or inferior. 
On some occasions she proudly boasted that ‘‘all 
men are created equal,” but her life — and actions 
speak louder than words — strenuously denied the 
claim. Her flagrant inconsistency brought no 
blush of shame to her cheek when she argued that 
the rich were naturally superior to the poor. 

In spurning a poor hireling whose possessions 
were a little education and iron muscle, she felt 
that she had been true to her trust as a legisla- 
tor’s child and wealthy heiress. She precluded 
character from Harry’s assets, for common sense 
was deposed. Prejudice was monarch and, as it 
ever does all its subjects, had so corrupted her 
heart and mind that she would not let his char- 
acter supply the deficit made by a lack of those 
material things which only fickle chance or whim- 
sical fortune could bestow. 

Of course, Imogene did not hate Harry par- 
ticularly. As an individual he was, perhaps, 
honorable. But he was of a class of which all 
parts were essentially despicable because the 
whole was despised. An individual must be rich 
or must not be allowed the rights and privileges 
that the rich enjoyed. From time immemorial 
the poor had been disregarded by the rich. 
That was more than tradition; it was history. 
She must religiously maintain the old order of 
things. Prejudice is always at enmity with Pro- 
gression. 


36 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


Imogene suffered no remorse. Prejudice had 
so wrapped her conscience in sophistry that no 
insult or injustice, even the grossest and most 
truculent, could pierce it if that insult or injus- 
tice were sustained by the poor rather than the 
rich. 

As she drew near the farm house, Imogene 
heard her father laugh and observed that he was 
playing checkers with his brother in the garden. 
She shrank from meeting him, lest the armistice — 
a certainty when out of his presence — should be 
broken. She turned back to a pretty arbor and 
entered the house by a side entrance. Believing 
that she had not been seen, she hastened quietly 
up to her room. She had walked home rapidly 
and was tired; her mind was greatly vexed; sleep 
came to her relief. 

It was a fair evening, the light in the room 
was mellow, and soft strains of music floated on 
the air. Imogene was very beautiful in a dainty 
white gown and long veil. By her side stood a 
plain, grave man. There were a few firmly 
spoken words, a gentle ‘T will’^ and a ‘^kiss as 
long as twenty.’^ 

Imogene awoke in her father’s arms. 

‘‘It was only a horrid dream,” she thought. 
“It was papa that kissed me.” 

Evidence was strong, for he was even then 
holding her to his bosom and kissing her like a 
lover. But a strange fear lingered over her. 
She looked up like a frightened fawn and in- 


A LOOKING-GLASS 3T 

quired with trembling lips, ‘Tapa, do dreams 
ever come true?’’ 

“My own experience, little dear, brands them 
for lies — they never come true; that is, they are 
never literally reproduced in life. They may 
often be symbolic of the future; but, alas! Joseph 
has been gathered unto his fathers and we of this 
age have no interpreter. But, as my memory 
awakes, I recall a dream that developed in real 
life precisely as was prophesied in sleep. 

“Your great-grandmother was a congenital 
abolitionist. At your age she was so zealous for 
the cause of freedom that even her bosom 
friends called her a fanatic. When Dred Scott’s 
case arose, she had, of course, a great interest in 
its outcome. Day by day she yearned to hear 
of it being a victory for freedom. At last the 
adverse decision was given and she was rendered 
almost hopeless. But one night she fell asleep 
and dreamed — dreamed the history of our nation 
as that history is from Freedom’s gruesome re- 
pulse at Harper’s Ferry to her mighty triumph 
at Appomattox.” 

“How singular that a dream should come 
true!” Imogene commented when he had finished. 
Her troubled countenance and sad smile gave a 
soft aspect to her proud face. 

“Ah, pretty mousie, I have caught you. You 
dreamed of our spending the coming season in 
‘The Tombs.’ Your dream is not true,” he as- 
sured her. “My brother is very hospitable in 


38 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


asking me to stay until Christmas, but I cannot 
possibly accept his kindness. Five days more, 
girlie, and you shall be at home.” 

Her face instantly grew radiant with smiles 
and her dark eyes sparkled with delight. 

‘‘Papa, you make me so happy,” she said 
sweetly. “Here is a kiss for the lips that 
brought me such good tidings.” 


CHAPTER VIII 


^^Harry Tracy, you are a fool!” The convic- 
tion was so strong it seemed as if a human spoke 
those words, and Harry agreed. 

^‘1 am a fool,” he said. ^‘How could I be so 
inconsiderate? Her father has been so gracious, 
and I repay him by — I will not think of my folly, 
but I will prove to father and daughter that 
kindness does not breed presumption. Books 
shall conceal my heart; work shall be its safe- 
guard. The only woman I have ever loved, I will 
forget.” 

The resolution seemed to reinforce his physical 
strength. He brought his uplifted ax down with 
unprecedented force upon the wood he was cut- 
ting. He worked hard and fast, and as he 
worked he sometimes whistled a merry tune and 
sometimes sighed. The two contrasted expres- 
sions were due to his double mood, for he was 
pleased and yet he was sad. 

Providence had brought him face to face with 
a great opportunity. It was like the rising of 
the sun; it created a new day for him; it filled 
all sound with the music of joy and gladness; it 
awoke to active life fond dreams that had slum- 
bered long; therefore, he whistled. To accept 
the favor from Providence he must necessarily 
39 


40 A LOOKING-GLASS 

forego former domestic duties; therefore, he 
sighed. 

Who would do the innumerable chores for his 
aged mother when he was gone.^^ Who would be 
‘‘Santa Claus” for little Sally at Christmas time 
if he went off to school.^ But if he stayed away, 
who would by and by tear down the old three- 
room log house and erect a modern home.?^ Who 
would go before little Sally and pilot her.? Life 
had treacherous quicksands and dangerous reefs. 
Except a radiance were continually streaming on 
the sea, little Sally’s craft might founder. 
Whom could he trust half so well as himself to 
keep the light forever shining, and how could he 
do it without an education.? Mere love could not 
suffice. Though his love was strong, he would, 
without an education, be to her young life like a 
darkened beacon tower. He must be educated. 

And his mother ! How her dear old heart 
would rejoice to see her son educated. Such was 
the blessing for which she had so fervently 
prayed when he was but a child. Now the possi- 
bility was at hand. It was the answer to those 
petitions that his fond mother had faithlessly 
thought unheard. She should now have her de- 
sire and the misery of the past would be forgot- 
ten. 

For a brief while Harry thought of the trying 
days gone by. 

When he was scarcely of an age for school and 
only slightly acquainted with the rigid discipline 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


41 


of the one-room cabin, his father died. That 
death initiated him into sorrow and he had worn 
the badge of her order for years. How it 
grieved his tender heart to see his mother labor- 
ing hard for sustenance! But she was faithful 
and maintained his membership in school until she 
was compelled to absolutely withdraw him. Poor 
soul! Her arduous toil had been her physical 
undoing. Harry became her dependence, al- 
though he was still a child. He marked it the 
darkest day on the calendar of his life when his 
mother, while the tears rained on his head, told 
him he could attend school no more. 

Harry vividly remembered that he had cried 
all the evening and far into the night. He cried 
until he was tearless, and fell asleep sobbing. 
He dreamed that an angel stooped over his trun- 
dle-bed and kissed him. The kiss was magical. 
Immediately he was transported to a magnificent 
building where many people went in, and another 
angel blessed them, so that they came out trans- 
figured. The ragged were clothed and the amor- 
phous became beautiful and shapely. While he 
wondered what the building was and who was the 
magician, he was told that the one was a school 
and the other education. 

A school ! And he was there. Education ! 
And he was to receive its blessing. Ah ! the rap- 
ture that thrilled his soul ! It awoke him, but he 
at once resumed crying, for the dream was only 
a dream. He wore a distressful countenance un- 


42 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


til in the afternoon when the teacher came by,‘ 
and his mother, nearly choked with sobbing, told 
why he was absent. In his pity and love for her 
he forgot himself. He stiffened his neck against 
the stormy billows and, despite the blackness that 
environed him, smiled for his dear mother’s sake. 
In that hour he grew to be a man. 

Harry had had a sister, a girl beautiful in 
form and face and happy in disposition. She 
was several years his senior. A few years after 
the father’s death deprived the family of its 
strongest pillar, the mother committed the indis- 
cretion that seemed unavoidable — hired her 
daughter out to a neighbor. 

The neighbor, somehow, did not feel that she 
was her sister’s keeper. Work was all she de- 
manded. The girl worked satisfactorily and 
without complaint, excepting that she lamented 
being deprived of her mother’s and brother’s com- 
pany. Her grief did not last long. A man from 
a populous city soon ridded time of its tedious 
drag. The poor girl did not know whether the 
man was a criminal fleeing from justice or a gen- 
tleman seeking recreation. She only knew that 
through him all seasons pleased her and all time 
was too brief. The mistress never objected to 
his visits, and she, the maid, welcomed them, 
looked for them and was sad only when they were 
denied her. 

As soon as Mrs. Tracy learned of her daugh- 
ter’s infatuation she summoned her home. It was 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


43 


then too late. What could she do? Already the 
bird had been caught in the wily hunter’s net and 
would not be released. Argument and entreaty 
were both useless. The more the mother pro- 
tested the more wilful the daughter grew. She 
married her lover clandestinely, but for that se- 
cret sin she overtly atoned. The country folk 
were still gossiping of her elopement when she 
fled from her tyrant-husband — fled back to the 
parental roof and found a sanctuary with her 
from whose loving heart she had never been a 
wanderer. 

Harry was then quite a helpful lad, working 
hard every day and growing old faster than the 
days settled on his head. With an aching heart 
he watched his sister fade like a trampled blos- 
som. There was never a thing too hard for him 
to do if it gave her pleasure or ease. He hoped 
that with the return of spring she would be 
strong, and on holidays ramble with him through 
the meadow and gay woods as she used to do be- 
fore she went away. She always told him that 
such could be no more, but he would hope. At 
last he plainly saw on his sister’s beautiful face 
a light too heavenly to abide with mortals. He 
realized, with a bleeding heart, that her end was 
near. She gave him a niece in exchange for her- 
self and whispered softly to him on the day she 
died : ‘‘Call her by my name and let her take my 
place.” 

They made for his sister a grave on the hill- 


44 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


side. Daily he visited the spot and talked to his 
small niece of her who slept there until he thought 
she understood. She was his constant play- 
mate when he had respite from toil. He pre- 
pared her milk ; he made her pap and fed it to her ; 
he rode her on his foot; he carried her on his 
back; he played ^‘peek-a-boo” with her in the 
house ; he played “I spy” with her out of doors ; 
he gathered flowers with her and strewed them on 
the untimely grave on the hillside, and he swore 
to never go away from her and leave her sad and 
companionless as his sister had once left him. 
Now the oath seemed in danger of violation. He 
trembled at the thought. 

“But it is best,” he murmured. “True, she will 
be loth to give me up, but we shall both gain by 
so losing. Mother is willing for me to go, yet 
who feels the sacrifice more than she. How 
proud she is of my opportunity! It seems to 
make her younger. Money matters will not 
worry her, thank God. There is no rent to be 
raised, as I have bought the little home. Taxes 
are a small consideration for which I have laid by 
a sufficient sum. Besides, Mr. and Mrs. Hillman 
will not let her want, for they know she is a wor- 
thy woman and my credit is good. When we are 
reunited the jubilee will make us forget the sad- 
ness of our parting.” 

He was not the only one thinking of that part- 
ing. Sally was thinking of it as she sat “letting 
the old cat die” in the grapevine swing her uncle 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


45 


had made. She wondered why he was going from 
her and why he said he must. It was a cruel 
“must” that separated them. He had told her 
that he would be gone four years. She did not 
conceive of how many days four years combined, 
but when she thought of living every one with 
never a word to her uncle, never a smile from him, 
never a caress from his hard but gentle hand, she 
burst into tears. She might have cried her eyes 
red had not her grandmother’s voice been at that 
moment heard, calling loudly, “Sally, oh^ Sally !” 

Sally wiped her eyes on her little pinafore and, 
shouting “Ma’am” in answer to the call, ran to 
where Mrs. Tracy sat. 

Mrs. Tracy was not alone. A gentleman was 
there. He smiled pleasantly and held out his 
hand when Sally bowed to him. 

“Sally,” Mrs. Tracy said, “that is Mr. Hill- 
man that your uncle told you about.” 

He was a stranger when Sally gave him her 
soft, tiny hand, but now she knew him and looked 
at him in a rather unfriendly manner. She could 
not like the man who was mean enough to send 
her uncle away. She longed to be out of his 
presence and was very glad to scamper off when 
her grandmother said, “Sally, go get your un- 
cle’s jography. Mr. Hillman is goin’ to mark 
for me on the map that place up there that your 
uncle is goin’ to. Run ’long! 

“There’ll be a sight of consilation in lookin’ at 
it,” she continued to her guest when Sally had 


46 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


‘^run ’long.” She wiped a tear from her eye. 
‘‘This will be the first time he was ever away from 
me a night. Poor, dear soul! I knows he will 
be sick for home. I’d never let him go only I 
b’lieve it will be better for us all some day.” 

“Undoubtedly so, madam,” Mr. Hillman re- 
plied. 

Just then Sally returned with the geography, 

“Here, sir,” said Mrs. Tracy, offering Mr, 
Hillman the book. “Mark this place too, please. 
Put two crosses for here and one for up there.” 

He looked at her inquiringly. 

“You see,” she explained, “there will be two 
of us left down here to suffer and ’twill be jest 
hisself up there to bear this trouble.” 

Mr. Hillman granted her request and indulged 
her further by tracing the route of the train 
that would bear her son away. She was de- 
lighted. She kissed his hand and called him “so 
good.” He was a little embarrassed. 

“I don’t know where the dear child is,” she 
said after a momentary silence. “I’m sorry you 
happened in when he’s out. I know if he’d had any 
idea that you was cornin’ round this way to-day 
he’d ’ave stayed near. I jest reckon he’s gone 
down to chop more wood. I seen him goin’ in 
that dairection some time ago.” 

Sally, who was at the garden gate, saw him at 
that very minute coming from that “dairection.” 
She flew down the road to meet him. Her face 
was all sunshine ; her eyes were all smiles. When 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


47 


the thought of his going recurred to her, her 
countenance clouded, her eyes filled with tears. 
She greeted him with the entreaty, ‘‘Do not leave 
me; oh, do not go away!’^ 

Harry stooped and kissed the pretty face with 
which the warm summer sun had manifestly had 
daily play. 

“You do not understand, dear,” he said. 
“Come, sit down here. Let us talk over this 
thing, my bonny bird.” 

He led her to an old stile. There was room 
enough for two. He sat down on the step, but 
she preferred his knee and sat on her favorite 
perch with her arms around his neck. Sally was 
the first to speak. 

“Yes, I do understand,” she said. “Mr. Hill- 
man is going to take you away from Granny and 
me. I think he is very mean.” 

“Hush! He is our best friend.” 

“Then why does he take you from me.^^” 

“To do me a great kindness that will greatly 
bless us all.” 

“Do you think it is kind to take you away.? 
Do you want to go.?” 

She looked puzzled. Before he could answer 
she continued: 

“I should think it cruel of any man to take me 
from you and Granny. I’d hate him, too.” 

Harry smiled. He could not believe that she 
would be always of such a mind. 

“Oh, uncle, uncle, why will you go.?” 


48 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


She hid her face on his shoulder and her tears 
wet his rough shirt. He partially soothed her 
with soft words and dried her eyes on his ban- 
danna. 

“Except I go away,” he said gently, when she 
had ceased sobbing, “you will never be a fine lady, 
such as you have a right to be.” 

He soon saw his error in appealing to her self- 
ishness to reconcile her to their separation. 

“Then, uncle, do not go,” she pleaded pite- 
ously. “I don’t want to be a fine lady; honest I 
don’t.” He knew she did not comprehend all she 
was saying nor what he had meant. “I would 
rather always be your and Granny’s little Sally,” 
she assured him. “Do let me be just that and I 
will be happy.” 

“You shall always be that to her and me,” he 
replied; “even in the distant day when you will 
have become ‘Miss Sally’ to the rest of the 
world.” He could not conceive of the small crea- 
ture outgrowing her childhood in his and his 
mother’s hearts. 

“You are all my world,” she said earnestly, 
looking at him with eyes too serious for a child. 
“I love nobody else so much as I love you two.” 

He wanted to echo her words, but conscience 
hindered him. He saw again the woman’s face 
that was as fair to him as Sally’s; he heard the 
woman’s voice that was as sweet to him as Sally’s 
childish treble. He scorned everything false. 
He could tell her only the truth. 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


49 


‘‘We love you too, dear,” he told her as he 
pressed his cheek down on the curly head that 
lay on his bosom. “That ought to make you 
happy, darling.” 

“I was happy until I learned that Mr. Hill- 
man means to send you away. We had such 
good times together. With you gone I can do 
nothing but grow.” 

She did seem piteously helpless as she rested, 
cuddled against him. His reply surprised her. 

“That is just what I intend to do when I am 
gone.” 

She smiled at the seeming jest. 

“You grow.?” she asked doubtfully. “A great 
big man grow.?” Nothing seemed more impossi- 
ble. She drew back and looked at him. Surely 
he was as big as he could ever be. He smiled at 
the perplexity in her eyes and the smile of unbe- 
lief on her parted lips. 

“Yes, pet, I shall grow, — grow wiser, grow 
more useful; but no bigger in stature, I hope. I 
want you to grow wiser and more useful, little 
girl. I want to hear of your doing many things 
for mother that you are now too small to do. I 
want your penmanship and composition in the 
second letter you send to be better than in your 
first. Let us run a race in this ‘growing’ busi- 
ness and four years will soon pass.” 

“That is just what Mr. Hillman thinks.” 

“Mr. Hillman! When have you seen him.?” 

“A little while ago. He is at the house now.’^ 


50 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

His tone was reproachful. For that Sally 
blamed Mr. Hillman. Her uncle had never 
spoken so before. 

Harry gently put her off his knee. Taking 
her hand, he strode toward the house. Sally ran, 
rather than walked, to keep up with him. When 
they reached the house she followed Harry in 
and stood behind her grandmother that she might 
hear and cry unseen. 

Mrs. Tracy had found it quite an easy matter 
to entertain Mr. Hillman. She refreshed him 
with cider and sweet-bread. Both were of her 
own making. He drank and ate with a relish 
that highly complimented her. She talked to 
him of her homely work in which Sally was ines- 
timable help. To her delight her words were not 
of a foreign language, for he understood all 
about digging potatoes, foddering cows, and 
many other things in which he was schooled at 
an early age. He seemed to her like another son. 

At no time and nowhere had Mr. Hillman ever 
posed as a legislator, dignified by his position. 
He was too high-minded. Being a true noble- 
man, though of the humblest parentage, he was 
ever conscious of being no more than a man. 

When Harry entered the room Mrs. Tracy 
gave him right of way in conversation. Sally 
thought Mr. Hillman kept him talking a “dread- 
ful long time.” Finally all was arranged. 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


51 


Harry was to leave a week from that evening. 
Sally had heard every word. But her mind fo- 
cussed on just one thought: she still had seven 
days in which to be happy with her uncle. 


CHAPTER IX 


‘‘Five more days, girlie, and you shall be at 
home.” 

Mr. Hillman’s words sang themselves again 
and again in Imogene’s ear. She liked their 
song. It brought to her a picture of home; she 
again clasped hands with dear ones of the social 
set for which she had pined all summer. She 
knew that her father must start for home on the 
fourth day in order to be there on the fifth. 
Imogene did not know exactly how the days were 
passing by, but as the suns set she counted them, 
— one, two, three. 

“Good-night, sun,” she said on the third even- 
ing when she saw the great light fade behind the 
purplish-gray clouds. “Hasten on and soon re- 
turn, for to-morrow I go away.” 

. Imogene awoke with the dawn of that to-mor- 
row. There was no sky, but only heavy, dark 
clouds, from which a chilly rain gushed and 
poured. But to Imogene that morning was the 
fairest of all the summer. The mud and the 
rain mattered nothing, for she was going home. 
That thought made blue sky and golden sunshine 
for her. With the impatience of a small child 
she urged her father to hurry lest they be too late 
for the train. 


52 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


53 


‘^There is ample time,” he answered with a 
calmness that was most tantalizing. ‘^There is 
time yet for you to give our host and hostess a 
cordial invitation to our home. You know it 
must be given.” 

Imogene’s face was from him. She was turned 
toward the mirror while she placed a few little 
things in her portmanteau. But in the glass he 
saw her lips curl in a disdainful smile. 

^^That, papa, I will never do,” she said defi- 
antly. 

‘‘That, Imogene, you shall do; or, by all the 
defiance that flashes from your haughty eyes, I 
swear to transport them at my own expense. I 
will engage a Pullman to carry them up to our 
city next Christmas. They shall spend the whole 
holiday season under my roof.” 

By means of the mirror he was again able to 
see her face. It was as pale as if Death had 
laid its livery there. 

“Horrors !” she exclaimed at the very thought 
of the terrible alternative. “Papa, please be 
merciful to me. I do not want them at my home. 
They are unfit to visit there. I will not invite 
them.” 

“Rebellious girl! Why beg me to be merciful.^ 
It is inhuman to give a rebel mercy when to give 
it is to suffer a weaker people to be abused. 
These simple folk deserve from you the courtesy 
I demand for them. A mercy to you is not 
mercy but a villainous crime perpetrated against 


54 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


you both if it be an injustice to them. The 
greatest mercy I can show is in measuring out 
justice for you all.’’ 

‘‘Papa, you know I intend to have our home 
at Christmas brilliant with folk of wealth and 
fashion — more brilliant than ever before. Imag- 
ine Farmer Hillman there with his pipe and 
Madam Hillman with her unintelligible brogue. 
Do you not see the pitilessness of your oath.?^ I 
do not want these people at my home. It would 
be hypocrisy to ask them. Insincerity is no vir- 
tue, papa.” 

“Nor is hate, dear child.” 

“But, papa, modify your oath, It is so fear- 
ful as it stands. To prevent the things it would 
bring to pass I should do almost anything.” 

“What I have sworn I will not alter. When 
any person will not treat others right he who 
knows what justice is ought to enforce justice. 
If he will allow injustice to be done, although he 
may condemn it, he is a party to it and the more 
guilty party, too, being not only a villain but a 
coward. Decide for yourself if you will let insin- 
cerity tarnish your soul that hate has made so 
beautifully fair. Bear in mind the consequences 
if you refuse.” 

Imogene knew only too well that her father 
would not violate his oath. Consciousness of his 
threat was to her like a sword. It was the sword 
that conquered her. She seemed rather amiable 
when she bade the farmer and his wife good-by. 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


55 


With her father’s eye upon her and her father’s 
ear open to every word, she added to the good- 
by, ‘‘I hope that I shall some day have the pleas- 
ure of entertaining you in my home. I cordially 
invite you to come.” 

She had given the invitation, but she recol- 
lected the act as if it had been a nightmare. 
Even after she was ensconced by her father’s side 
in their car, she thought of that severe trial and 
shuddered. Her father had forced her to play 
the hypocrite, but she was not bettered by it, for 
her hatred was as intense and her will was as 
strong as ever. 

^Tapa,’^ she said finally, venturing to let him 
know what was coursing through her mind, ‘‘I 
cannot believe that you and Farmer Hillman are 
sons of the same father and mother.” 

‘^Why, you silly little infidel !” He might have 
laughed at her confession but he knew that the 
principle supporting her unbelief was too grue- 
some for laughter. ^^If you could only accept 
the truth, my riddle would be solved. It is by 
rejecting the truth that races and classes are 
pitted against each other.” 

‘^Oh, it may be true that he is your brother, 
but I am not at all disposed to believe it, for you 
are so superior to him.” 

‘^Hush,” he said sternly, looking at her kindly 
and pitying her with all the paternal tenderness 
of which his great heart was capable. ‘‘You have 
given a weak and foolish reason for believing ours 


56 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


is but a false claim to having both parents in 
common. My superiority cannot confute our 
claim on brotherhood, for that quality is not in- 
nate with any man. It is cultivated; one man is 
superior to another only by his superior educa- 
tion, intelligence and virtue. To all of those 
qualities men are trained. To none of them is 
any man born. Hence, only a fallacious judgment 
attributes superiority to blood as if it could be 
entailed, passing from father to son like gold and 
lands. If such were true, how would your father, 
fond, doting child, whose ancestors were illiterate 
and obscure, compare with many of his colleagues 
whose lineage abounds with famous men and emi- 
nent women generations back.'^ 

^^The difference you see between my unlettered 
farmer-brother and me is simply the difference 
that exists between the quasi-superior and so- 
called inferior folk everywhere — a difference 
born, not of unlike bloods, but of unlike oppor- 
tunities and environment. The only truly su- 
perior people are they who outstrip their fellows 
when all have positively equal chances; for then 
it is man to man, — tact against tact, talent 
against talent, genius against genius — the in- 
trinsic worth of one weighed with the intrinsic 
worth of the other. Many are the cases in which 
superior opportunity makes one brother seem su- 
perior to another. But it is not that other 
brother, but that other brother's opportunity 
that is inferior. 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


67 


^When my brother and I were children in the 
little old log schoolhouse, when we drove the cows 
home, when we trapped quails, and neither of us 
understood or knew the world beyond the con- 
fines of our native township, I was not superior. 
But when I was yet a boy — and no genius of mine 
drew the plan — I wandered down to the river that 
borders my brother’s farm.” 

Imogene grew pale when he mentioned the 
river. She could not hear it spoken of without 
a tremor of pain. She wondered how the old 
stream had played its part in his life. Why had 
it embittered memory for her if it had once 
blessed him? 

Mr. Hillman was so engrossed with his nar- 
rative he took no notice of Imogene’s pallor, but 
continued his story without intermission: 

‘‘There I saw a man whose fate was death 
unless help could reach him at once. I could 
swim like a fish; I dexterously saved him. Dear 
August would have done the same had it been his 
opportunity. The rescued swimmer was a rich 
and genei^ous stranger. He prevailed on my 
father to let him take me North to his home. 
He educated me. When my college-days were 
ended I shouldered the responsibility of caring 
for myself. ‘Son,’ said my benefactor, ‘I have 
given you a fortune better than silver or gold. 
No man can take it from you. You do the rest.’ 
I did what I could. He maintained a fatherly 
supervision over my career and in his last hour 


58 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


made me happy with the assurance that I had’ 
not disappointed his hope. I was handsomely re- 
membered in his will. That is all. 

“With my chances my brother might have made 
a better man than I. In boyhood he excelled me 
in anything to which we put our hand or brain. 
Superior opportunity has made me a ‘superior’ 
man. Nature did not do so; hence, the superior- 
ity is artificial. Whenever you are tempted to 
consider another as your inferior, pause and think 
how your opportunities compare with each other. 
It is wicked, unreasonable presumption, girl, to 
say you are superior to any other persons unless, 
having equal opportunity in the race of life, you 
keep them in the rear.” 


CHAPTER X 


Mr. Hillman’s talk was like seed sown on rocky 
soil. It did not take root and flourish in Imo- 
gene’s heart. Giving it certain application, it 
sounded very fine, she admired its liberality; but 
if it were to be applied to the poor, it was absurd. 
Yet she very well knew that, had she been the 
poor, unlettered, simple people whom Mr. Hill- 
man defended, his argument was the only one of 
which she could have approved. But she never 
allowed that consciousness to alter her attitude 
for she did not consider the Golden Rule appli- 
cable in the case. As one not amenable to the 
Law she boldly retained her deeply rooted 
prejudice against the poor and felt that Justice 
granted her immunity from punishment. 

People must be rich or she gave them no con- 
sideration. It was never worth while to examine 
the character of any poor to see if it possessed 
virtue or intelligence, for poverty was a brand 
of inferiority that no excellence, however great, 
could redeem. That was right as she saw the 
right. She put her father’s words out of mind 
and thought with intense delight of her home 
where the poor entered only to serve and the rich 
went in and out in pomp and splendor, making 
one holiday of all the year. Such thoughts 
59 


60 A LOOKING-GLASS 

occupied her until she reached her journey’s 
end. 

Three of Imogene’s friends were waiting at 
the station to meet and welcome her. Many pas- 
sengers crowded the platform but it was an easy 
matter to single Imogene out from the rest. 
Her graceful, elastic step and the tilt of her 
head were inimitable and gave her an individuality 
that could be never mistaken. Beside her, walked 
her father. He lifted his hat and smiled pleas- 
antly as three young girls hastened toward him 
and Imogene. Imogene affectionately greeted 
them one by one : ‘‘Grace, darling,” “Dear 
Maggie,” “Last, but not least, my own precious, 
’Nita.” The embraces and kisses that went with 
the greeting made Mr. Hillman smile again. 

“Well,” he mused, “it is, indeed, a pretty sight, 
— the meeting of like with like.” 

Grace, Maggie and ’Nita accompanied Imogene 
home. There they bade her good-by, feeling 
that she must need quiet after the fatigue of 
traveling. 

As soon as the announcement of Imogene’s 
and Mr. Hillman’s arrival spread through the 
house the servants congregated in the hall to 
greet them. 

Although Imogene was not as many girls whose 
sweetness of manner wins all hearts, she pos- 
sessed traits that maintained for her a superficial 
reverence on the part of the diplomatic servants. 
She believed they respected her as a royal princess 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


61 


and was satisfied. When she saw them gathered 
in the hall she smiled and spoke a few bright 
words. On such occasions as a home-coming she 
was always more or less amicable. She felt that 
she could safely discard a little of her haughtiness 
at such a time for she had trained her servants 
to stay within the bounds of their caste. They 
recognized their position as servants and did not 
aspire to be equal with the mistress. They were 
poor and wisely content to suffer the deprivations 
of their lowly state, enjoying only such comforts 
and luxuries as were granted them on the humor 
of the rich who reveled in all the comforts and 
luxuries the world can give. So Imogene be- 
lieved. 

It was Imogene’s custom, when returning from 
a trip, to remember the servants with little gifts. 
That she had not done in this instance, for where 
she had passed the summer there was nothing 
to be bought and packed with her baggage. 
Imogene regretted the necessity of disappointing 
the menials, but resolved to amend the evil by 
giving them liberal tips before the day ended. 
They required nothing more, she thought. 

Mr. Hillman purchased respect and love with 
neither gifts nor money. He bought them with 
the kingliness of his soul, and they were lavished 
upon him by all who knew him. His democracy 
made him the idol of the servants’ hearts. Their 
countenances beamed with pleasure as he shook 
hands with them. 


62 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


‘Triends,” he said, “how happy it makes me 
to return to you.” 

His words did not fall with a thud. They 
had the clear ring of truth. The term “friends” 
did not breed dereliction among those hired peo- 
ple. They had been accustomed to the term 
ever since they began service in Mr. Hillman’s 
employ. Nevertheless, they had always per- 
formed their tasks conscientiously; had always 
recognized his and their relative positions ; had 
always been most respectful in demeanor. A su- 
percilious or dictatorial manner could not have 
militated more in his favor than did his unwaver- 
ing condescension. Even that day of his return 
it pleased the servants less to receive Imogene’s 
cash than to have his words and kind looks that 
tacitly said, “We are all children of one Father.” 

Before Mr. Hillman and Imogene left the hall 
Cleveland presented himself, wagging his tail and 
trying to say, “Welcome home!” 

“You dear old doggie,” cried Imogene, sink- 
ing to her knees and clasping her arms around 
his shaggy neck as she laid her face against his 
head. “You are just the sweetest thing in the 
world.” As if to thank her for the compliment, 
Cleveland licked her dainty hand that was un- 
gloved and with the other she stroked his shaggy 
coat. 

Peggy, jealous of Cleveland’s caresses, went 
purring around her mistress. Imogene fondled 
her most tenderly and unsparingly poured out 


A LOOKING-GLASS 63 

upon her the dearest blandishments that tongue 
ever uttered. 

^^And all of that,” said her father inly while 
he painfully observed her, ‘‘she gives to a cat 
too good-for-nothing to keep mice from her 
father’s barn and obviate the necessity of the 
hostler’s resorting to more expensive riddance. 
She has not spoken half so much to the humble, 
dutiful servants. 

“Strange, strange, indeed,’^ he continued, “is 
my college-bred daughter. Evidently I sent her 
to the wrong school. No institution is worthy 
of being called a college if it does not so broaden 
its students’ minds that they will eternally keep 
with them, to shape each thought and action, the 
aphorism, ‘All men are created equal.’ Poor Imo- 
gene! She has a counterfeit intelligence. Truly 
intelligent people have reason. She possesses 
prejudice instead. What means that college-di- 
ploma she so highly prizes.^ She is not educated. 
She has gotten only a smattering of learning. 
Learning makes men wise ; fools boast of ancestry 
or pelf. Education makes men thinkers. Every 
thinker knows that man is not a corporeal body 
but a living soul; he is what his life is, what his 
thoughts are. The physical eye cannot behold 
him. His body may be wrapped in most debasing 
rags while he, the man, is greater than a king.” 

Imogene was still entertaining Cleveland and 
Peggy at her informal reception. Mr. Hillman, 
grieved at the sight, took refuge in the library. 


64i 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


Soon after Mr. Hillman retreated, Imogene 
went up to her room. Her maid brought out a 
change of apparel. Imogene was glad enough 
to have her traveling dress removed. She was 
soon very comfortable in a pretty lounging robe 
and soft shoes. She would take no refreshments. 
She wanted only to lie still and rest. The maid 
left her. Imogene lay down on a couch and 
thought. 

It was pleasant to think. There were many 
things of which a girl in Imogene’s place could 
think. But she had just one subject as she lay 
there, and that was a man whom she had never 
seen but of whom she had heard much. During 
the summer, Grace, Maggie and ’Nita had writ- 
ten to her concerning him and while they drove 
from the station that day added a verbal text 
to the synopsis sent her by mail. 

‘T should like to see him,” she thought. “I 
shall surely meet him soon; for he is quite popu- 
lar, they say.” 

‘‘He” was a young attorney who had entered 
Imogene’s home city in the same week that Imo- 
gene had gone away. “He” was marvelously 
skillful at the bar and drank deeply of the peo- 
ple’s praise. “He” was pointed to as the “com- 
ing man.” By that term Imogene understood 
that prophecy said he should be very famous and 
very powerful. “He” was handsome, courteous, 
learned and rich and idolized by society. “He” 
boarded at the best hotel, owned the finest horse 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


65 


and rig and dressed the smartest of any young 
man in the city. was a Southerner by par- 

entage and birth; a Northerner by residence and 
education. 

‘^He is as handsome as Adonis, with tender blue 
eyes that seem to say, ‘Forget me not.’ And no 
woman’s heart can resist their pleading,” Grace 
said with a merry laugh as the four friends talked 
of him on Imogene’s homeward way. 

“Every pose of his is statuesque,” Maggie 
commented. “He is straight and tall like a tower 
of strength to which any woman might well flee 
for refuge while shots are falling thick and fast 
‘in the world’s broad field of battle.’ ” Maggie 
finished in a gay manner that was the counter- 
part of Grace’s jesting humor. 

“His voice,” said ’Nita, “is as sweet as I fancy 
an angel’s is. It goes straight to one’s heart 
like a song and nestles there.” 

She did not laugh ; nor had she spoken lightly. 
Her limpid brown eyes were full of tenderness ; 
a faint blush, that her stupid friends thought 
was but the flush of health, lay on her face. 

The attorney was not altogether a stranger. 
Some of the best families knew his pedigree. 
Imogene’s young friends had learned from them 
all that they knew of the “coming man.” His 
father had been the wealthiest and most promi- 
nent man in business circles of Vicksburg Missis- 
sippi ; his mother had been a social leader in 
North Carolina; his mother’s brother had figured 


66 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


politically in national affairs at Washington. 
The son and nephew, having such a glowing rec- 
ommendation, was at once given a stronghold in 
the highest social circles of the city to which he 
had emigrated. 

‘‘Oh,” Imogene sighed as she lay thinking of 
the word-photographs her friends had given her, 
“he must be a wonderful man or calm, dignified 
’Nita would not have spoken so of him. I should 
like to see him,” she thought again. 

With the same longing she once wished to see 
the beautiful pictures in the Louvre. She had 
seen those wonderful works of earth’s renowned 
artists and had been enraptured by them. She 
had no thought of being charmed as much by the 
“wonderful” work of God. 


CHAPTER XI 


Imogene sat with her three most intimate 
friends on the veranda of her father’s palatial 
residence. Imogene was embroidering a waist 
pattern, ’Nita was talking of a ‘^perfectly 
lovely” evening dress that she was having made, 
Maggie was caressing Cleveland and Grace was 
scanning a sheet of new music. 

^‘Oh, I think it is fine!” Grace cried, springing 
up from her seat. ‘T have a strong passion for 
operatic music. Come with me, Maggie, while 
I try it on the piano.” 

Sometime after Grace and Maggie had gone 
Imogene said, “ ’Nita, I am thinking of the invi- 
tations Mrs. Dale has sent out. Have you ac- 
cepted.^” 

“Not yet.” 

“Then you will.?” 

“I intend to.” 

“I think I shall say ‘no 1’ You see, ’Nita, Mrs. 
Dale is so very dull. Everything she gives is a 
perfect bore. I love life — sparkling, sunny life. 
I must answer her soon and I have tried to de- 
cide what that answer shall be. It seems a pity 
to send regrets for she delayed the affair, I 
understand, just to make it possible for me to 
be there. Such kindness ought to be appreciated. 

67 


68 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


I hate to appear discourteous. But my existence 
all summer was so extremely humdrum, I feel 
that another day like any one of those from June 
to September would be my last.” 

The consideration that Imogene had for Mrs. 
Dale was due to the fact that Mrs. Dale was rich. 
She owned a fine estate of more than five hundred 
acres, known as Dale Park. She had fields for 
the raising of produce but reserved a considerable 
portion for the pleasure of herself and friends ; 
her bank account was large. It was no wonder, 
then, that Imogene thought twice before reject- 
ing an invitation from such a source. 

‘‘Mrs. Dale is awkward and wearisome,” ’Nita 
admitted, “but she has such a kind heart.” 

“Oh, she is a perfect lady, I know ; but — ” 

“ ‘But, me no buts.’ Our set will be there. If 
we were together, a wilderness would be a happy 
place. It was all because we were not with you 
that the summer used you so badly.” 

“Say nothing of the summer,” Imogene im- 
plored her. 

“I will, I will,” a voice merrily rang out as 
Grace emerged from the hall. Maggie seconded 
the cry. “You have told us nothing; now tell 
us all.” 

“I have nothing worth telling,” Imogene 
frankly replied. 

“You surprise us,” said ’Nita. “We fancied 
the place was a paradise. You named several 
points in your itinerary before you left us, but we 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


69 


soon learned that you would visit the farm only.” 
stayed because I was ill.” 

^^111, Imogene !” the three girls exclaimed as 
one, ‘‘no one let us know.” 

“You noticed that there was a long intermis- 
sion in my correspondence, I am sure. I was 
sick all that while. I objected to your knowing 
it because I knew you would worry.” 

“Kind heart! What a dear darling!” 

Imogene was a “dear” and a “darling” no mat- 
ter what she did. Even in her maddest fits when 
she poured out her wrath in torrents upon the 
poor, her caste extenuated the violence and lis- 
tened submissively to the philippic. Whatever 
hardship she made the poor endure, however in- 
tense was her prejudice, her caste called her a 
“perfect woman nobly planned.” Whenever she 
subscribed money to the poor, as if they could 
live by gold alone, her caste said, “How good of 
her! She is not really their enemy. We simply 
do not understand her. It is best to let her 
alone.” 

While the rich smiled upon her and praised her 
it was impossible for her to see how hideous she 
was and flee from her wickedness. If they who 
knew she was wrong had been brave enough to 
fearlessly condemn her and frown on her mis- 
deeds, she should have been reformed long ago. 
But cowardice had a grip on them. It made 
them, without their knowing it, her accomplice 
in all the evil she did. Among those who con- 


70 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


doned and flattered her were members of the 
Church whose Founder laid down His life that 
even the poor might be joint-heirs with Him. By 
their stand Imogene felt that the Church en- 
dorsed her attitude, and could not see that it 
was at enmity with God. 

Grace, Maggie and ’Nita, who with Imogene, 
formed a little exclusive circle within a circle, did 
not agree with Imogene in manner and disposi- 
tion; but tolerated in her what they were not 
willing to assimilate. ’Nita was her strongest 
antagonist. But Imogene seemed stronger than 
all three. She sometimes made it appear that 
they thought as she thought; they never put her 
in so false a light. She was always so persistent 
in doing wrong, they often cowardly and selfishly 
shut their eyes for the sake of their own soul’s 
peace. 

The three friends suspected that there was 
something very unpleasant in connection with 
Imogene’s summer trip. Otherwise such abso- 
lute silence on the topic would have never been 
maintained. If she had found the place so in- 
fested with poor that there was no social circle 
of rich folk, they were perfectly willing for her 
to remain silent. 

‘T alter my determination,” Grace said, ‘T 
will not say anything of your summer. Let us 
talk of the fete Mrs. Dale will give. Of course 
we all are going.” 

‘T was trying to decide that when you and 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


71 


Maggie came out. After my summer experience 
I hunger for spicy entertainment. Mrs. Dale is 
so very uninteresting.” 

‘Tooh! You need not mind that. I am con- 
fident that her Californian cousin, Mrs. Holt, 
will be the real hostess and Mrs. Dale only a 
figurehead. Besides, Dale Park is so extensive, 
so beautiful; and a great company will be there. 
We should be dull, ourselves, to not enjoy the 
day. Do let us go.” 

They went. It was a perfect day in the be- 
ginning of October. Mrs. Holt had done her best 
to make Dale Park harmonize with the charm 
in the sky and air. She, like everyone else, was 
satisfied with results. 

‘^There is nothing prosaic in this,” Imogene 
remarked to the other three-fourths of herself 
as they all went to join in a game of basketball. 

‘Who are here.?^” Maggie inquired. 

“I should think all who are worth knowing,” 
Grace replied. 

“Oh, look, girls !” Imogene exclaimed in a low 
tone. “There is a stranger — a man.” 

The girls quickly turned but the stranger had 
as quickly been hidden in a group of his old col- 
lege friends. They sat at a card-table in a pleas- 
ant, fragrant bower and invited him to play whist. 

“Are you as good at cards as you used to be?” 
one man asked. In bygone days every player felt 
himself beaten at the start if Marmion Franklin 
played against him. 


72 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


‘‘I guess I play quite as well now, boys. Let 
us proceed.” 

They were playing another game when Imogene 
and Grace passed by. Imogene was talking. The 
melody of her voice arrested Marmion’s attention. 

‘^Who is that.?” he asked abruptly. ‘T 
thought I knew everybody here. But who is that 
in old rose — herself a youthful one? She and 
Miss Benton passed within a few feet of us. 
Neither saw us. Who is she?” 

‘Why, madman, that is Miss Imogene Hillman, 
our legislator’s daughter. She commands a 
good fortune in her own right — ^her mother left 
it to her. She is heiress to the old gentleman 
and will be immensely wealthy some day,” 

Marmion’s countenance altered. His inform- 
ant was studying his face and saw the effect of 
what had been told. 

“Ah, Franklin,” he said, “for everything there 
is a season. So you are love-smitten at last, 
eh? But you must climb steep mountains if you 
would dwell in the sunny climate toward which 
you sigh. She is, or has been besieged by all 
the men of our society. They who do not seek 
her favor now are those whom she has already 
ruthlessly driven from her court. There is some- 
thing so humiliating in such a compulsory flight 
that a proud man like yourself must be sure of 
his triumph or he would not make the venture.” 

As the talkative gentleman paused, the last 
card game was ended. 


A LOOKING-GLASS 73 

‘^Marmion plays cards most skillfully,” one of 
the beaten party commented. 

‘^Yes,” resumed the first speaker, had for- 
gotten that. But you are in the worst kind of 
luck by not knowing her. Shuffle quickly. An 
introduction will give you kings for aces. Then 
you may win though all others have failed; for 
you ‘play cards most skillfully.’ ” 

Marmion said a very little, but as soon as he 
was alone he went in search of Mrs. Holt and 
requested her to introduce him to Miss Hillman. 

Imogene sat listening to some soft, sweet airs 
played by one of several orchestral groups sta- 
tioned here and there in the Park. As she sat 
there she idly held a racket. The other players 
had forsaken the court and she was waiting for 
’Nita to rejoin her. Grace and Maggie had gone 
with some gentlemen for a row on the lake. 

As Mrs. Holt and Marmion drew near to Imo- 
gene, Imogene looked up and instantly recognized 
the stranger she had seen. She saw at once that 
he was fastidiously dressed from head to foot. 
In a moment she mentally inventoried his person- 
alities: imposing physique; a frank smile; a 
face full of politeness and prepossessing beauty; 
eyes whose loveliness there was never a summer 
sky nor a spring flower to match. 

Mrs. Holt tactfully performed her mission. 
To Imogene, Marmion’s voice sounded sweeter 
than the tuneful murmur of a purling river. She 
was no more, from that hour, “fancy free.” 


CHAPTER XII 


After that first meeting there was never a day 
in which Imogene did not think of Marmion ; nor 
a day in which Marmion did not think of Imo- 
gene’s gold. He thirsted for it as avaricious 
princes have thirsted for the throne; he desired 
it as ambitious rulers have desired to extend their 
territory ; he resolved to have it unless some other 
nugget glittered more alluringly. Like any 
other good general, Marmion carefully mapped 
out his plans before entering into the campaign. 

His first step was to thoroughly ingratiate him- 
self with Imogene. He did not pose as a lover but 
only as a friend. As such he slyly nurtured her 
love by every thoughtful and tender courtesy a 
disinterested gentleman could extend. 

wonder at him,” Imogene said. ‘T some- 
times think a lover could scarcely be more of a 
lover than he. But he fears to speak for he 
knows what has been the fate of other men. I 
wish he could see himself. He would know that 
he surpasses all other men. I love him but I 
must not let him know. Decorum holds a 
woman’s tongue but will never steel her heart.” 

‘T wonder at her,” Marmion said. ^^Her accent, 
every gesture, every changing light of her beau- 
tiful face, every expression of her bright eyes 
when I am with her say to me, ‘I love you.’ If 
74 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


75 


I should eventually utterly forsake her it would 
kill her. But gold rules the world, and I am for 
power.” 

Marmion had no doubt that Imogene was so 
securely entangled in the silky meshes of the net 
he had spread for her that she could never be 
free unless he cut the threads and forced her 
out. In order to learn if she were truly the best 
match he could make, Marmion let her continue 
to ^Vonder at him” while he spun around in the 
circle of their associates, testing the rarest gems 
with which the ring was set: there were widows, 
but they were jealous of their wealth; there were 
orphans, but their riches had been so bequeathed 
that their husbands would be their wards rather 
than their lords ; there were also maidens with 
keen-eyed fathers to defend them against his 
greed. Imogene, therefore, was the richest jewel 
of them all. She was independent in fortune and 
mind. She could lavish her wealth on whom she 
pleased. After the summing up, Marmion, like 
all who travel in a circle, finally returned to the 
starting-point, — Imogene^s side. He returned as 
a lover. Imogene heartily welcomed him. It was 
an easy matter for friends to become lovers. 
They were a devoted pair! 

Although Marmion still refused to allow his 
love a voice, it spoke silently through gifts of 
music, sweets, books and flowers. Imogene would 
not have exchanged any of those love-tokens for 
rubies or pearls. Many a lamb that eats when it 


76 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


is fed would turn from the trough if it knew that 
the food had been prepared to fatten it for the 
slaughter. 

Imogene catered to Marmion’s tastes in every- 
thing. She had learned his favorite colors, the 
flowers he liked best ; the books he appreciated 
most and the songs he thought the sweetest. She 
sang those songs, read those books, wore those 
flowers, and invariably blended those colors. His 
tastes were dictator when she dressed for ’Nita’s 
ball. 

Her dress was the daintiest, filmiest white web 
over pink. There was never form more superb 
nor face lovelier than that which Imogene saw as 
she stood before the mirror to see if she looked 
her best. Her hair was arranged loosely and 
waved in the way that Marmion most admired. 
Her gown was slightly decollete; Marmion liked 
modesty and discretion. Her pink undergown 
shimmered through the soft white haze that over- 
came it with splendid effect; Marmion never liked 
for the pink to predominate. 

‘‘Mrs. Vivien,” she said to her maid as she 
turned from the glass, “you are an artist. Every 
detail is perfect.” 

Imogene arrived at the ball before Marmion. 
’Nita commented on the combination of color that 
had grown so habitual with her. 

“We used to see you in various hues, but now 
you adhere so rigidly to pink and white. They 
set your dark beauty in excellent relief. I never 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


77 


saw you prettier than you are to-night.’’ 

The words pleased Imogene. She smiled a 
happy smile that seemed to enhance her loveli- 
ness. For a moment sh^ looked at her friend 
without speaking ; then she whispered low and 
falteringly, ’Nita, can you not guess my se- 
cret.?” 

‘^You have a secret from me, Imogene! No, I 
could never guess such a wonder.” 

‘^Then I must tell you. But I cannot tell 
you here. Come away with me.” 

They walked arm-in-arm down the long cor- 
ridor and entered an alcove where they were safe 
from the invasion of the merry dancers and ar- 
riving guests. 

^Tnto every girl’s life there comes a time when 
she needs a confidant,” Imogene began. ^Tt has 
come into mine now. I can safely confide in you. 
You are so reserved and cautious.” 

^^Have you told Mr. Hillman.?” 

‘‘Oh, no, ’Nita. Papa might laugh at me.” 

“I am sure he would not be so unfatherly. If 
you need counsel he would advise you better than 
I can, dearie. He is so much wiser.” 

“But I suspect papa is too busy with his end- 
less politics to have time for anything so foreign 
to them as this secret of mine.” 

“Nothing is dearer to a father’s heart than 
that which touches his daughter’s life and hap- 
piness,” ’Nita sententiously replied. 

“You are too wise to wear a golden crown. 


78 A LOOKING-GLASS 

Wisdom ought to have turned it to silver long' 
ago.” 

Imogene spoke piquantly, but the golden- 
haired girl bore it meekly. 

‘‘Dear Imogene,” she said sweetly, holding the 
proud heiress’s hands in her own, “I hesitate to 
hear, lest some other hearing you could render 
you better service. Why not speak to Mrs. 
Vivien. She is the milk of human kindness.” 

“That servant! Never! Whenever Imogene 
Hillman seeks a confidant she will seek it among 
her equals.” 

’Nita saw the cloud but prevented the storm 
by promising to listen. Imogene sat down and 
put one arm around ’Nita’s waist. 

“I do not know,” she whispered, “what the ex- 
ordium should be, but the whole is, — I am in love 
with Marmion Franklin.” 

She hid her blushing face on ’Nita’s bosom. 
’Nita’s cheeks lost their delicate rose-leaf tint 
and tears made her eyes more lambent. 

“Does he love you.^” ’Nita asked softly. 

“I think so, and the thought filled me with 
such delight that had it not found expression it 
would have undone me. He has not yet told me 
of his love. If he had, do you suppose I should 
be ashamed to lay my heart bare to all the world 
Indeed, I should own to everyone that I love 
him.” 

“Why do you love him, Imogene I thought 
your heart was impregnable, for you have been 


A LOOKING-GLASS 79 

unaffected by the attentions of so many gentle- 
men. Why do you love Marmion.?^” 

“Because he is the personification of honor,” 
Imogene answered with animation. “I find in 
him the ideal man. He despises every act and 
word that is not honest and true. I once heard 
him say to papa that he would die rather than 
run on a platform with a single plank contrary 
to his principles, or be recreant to a trust, or 
wrong his fellowman. Such a man is most 
worthy of my love. And then” — her effeminancy 
would out — “he is so handsome and clever, so 
popular and rich.” 

“Hush! The supplement makes the preceding 
reason plausible. I fear you are madly infatu- 
ated but not in love. Love never takes account 
of beauty, popularity and wealth. Pride and 
vanity seek after such things. Age or affliction 
may rob him of his beauty, villains may malign 
him and so deceive honest folk that his popularity 
shall be lost. Will you love him still 

“You are talking nonsense — absurd nonsense.” 
“What I ask is reasonable, for all things are 
possible when God resolves to try one’s soul. 
What if Marmion held the lead in penury instead 
of wealth, would you love him.'^” 

“ ’Nit a, I will not tolerate such a question. 
Ask if I should love him if he were mad, afflicted, 
maligned — anything but poor. No rich man or 
woman with so much as a shade of virtue would 
stain the honor of his or her caste by marrying 


80 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


a poor person. So, here is your answer: Were 
Marmion a poor man and my lover I should have 
him sent to the insane asylum or the gallows. 
There! Would you catechize me further.^ If 
not I will go in to the ball.” 

She arose and attempted to leave the alcove; 
’Nita gently arrested her and drew her to a win- 
dow where the moonlight streamed in upon them. 
It shone on Imogene’s head but on ’Nita’s face — 
a face that was sweet with pity and solicitude. 
Imogene seemed to be softened by its tenderness. 
She clasped ’Nita in her arms and whispered, 
‘^Smile, darling. Your terrible ‘ifs^ are all 
fancies. The reality is bright. Smile! I am 
only resolved to do as I, and you, too, have been 
taught. President Kingston, you remember, in 
his last address to our class, instructed us to 
hitch our chariots to a star. My love has marked 
the most lustrous star in heaven and you re- 
prove me because its name is Marmion.” 

‘^President Kingston never meant that his 
words should have such construction; besides, I 
fear your ambition is mocking your love. If in 
your heart you could answer ‘yes’ to the ques- 
tions I have asked, I should know that you love 
Marmion and not only his assets, — popularity 
and wealth. They should be secondary and, pos- 
sessed or not, should have no effect on one’s love. 
They are variable and transient, but men and 
women are immutable and forever.” 

Imogene looked into the sweet spirituelle face 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


81 


before her. It was pale and wet with tears. 

‘‘Why do you weep, ’Nita? You distress me. 
I told you my secret that you might rejoice. 
Again I entreat you to look up and smile.” 

“I cannot, I cannot. Oh, Imogene, if I saw 
you standing on a precipice preparing for a 
leap to death I would pull you back and you 
would call me ‘kind.’ Then, Imogene, call me 
‘kind’ to-night while, with your hands in mine 
and my eyes looking into yours, I implore you 
to reject Marmion if he should ask you to be his 
wife. I am convinced that Marmion woos your 
fortune instead of you. Therefore, reject him 
and save yourself.” 

Imogene freed her hands by sudden force as 
a serpent crept into her heart and embittered 
it against her truest friend. What motive 
prompted ’Nita to so slander Marmion; why 
would she have her not marry him? The serpent 
coiled in her breast hissed out, “Envy !” She 
would be mad to heed Envy’s caution. Certainly 
Marmion was not tempted by her riches. He was 
too high-bred. 

While those thoughts were coursing through 
Imogene’s mind, Mrs. Henson, who was looking 
for her niece, entered the alcove. 

“Why, ’Nita!” she exclaimed, “why did you 
steal off here? And dear little Imogene is with 
you! You girls should have deferred your pri- 
vate chat for a more appropriate time. Mar- 
mion has arrived and is as nonplused as a bee 


82 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


without wings in a garden of roses. Go in, Imo- '* 
gene. No doubt the fairest flower will heal his 
broken pinions.’^ 

Imogene needed no second bidding. She 
tripped away. Her heart was lighter and her 
radiant beauty brighter with every step that bore 
her nearer to Marmion. 


CHAPTER XIII 


The situation was as Mrs. Henson had repre- 
sented it to Imogene and ’Nita. Marmion was 
as forlorn as a handsome, knightly young man, 
admired and loved by the men and flattered by the 
speeches and glances of fair women could be. 

When he entered the room he at once scanned 
the company of men and women who were only 
spectators and those who were gliding rhythmi- 
cally over the floor as a waltz melody floated out 
from behind an embankment of ferns and palms. 
His disappointment in not seeing Imogene was 
very manifest. In vain beauty rallied round him 
and gracefully mobilized its wit to fascinate him. 
His heart was flxed. Mrs. Henson made pleas- 
antry of his being quite alone in a very large as- 
sembly. He quickly accounted for his stupid- 
ness by alleging that he was dazed by the splen- 
dor and beauty around him. The lovely faces 
and bright countenances that met his eye which- 
ever way he turned could be compared with noth- 
ing but the brightest stars in heaven. 

“Yet, your eyes wander restlessly over the 
galaxy,” Mrs. Henson replied with an arch 
smile, “as if you look for one bright particular 
star. Wait. I will bid it rise.” 

To fulfill her promise, she hurried Imogene off 
into the salon. 


83 


84 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


Imogene felt her cheeks burn with suppressed 
delight when Marmion clasped her hand and 
looked with the eye of a connoisseur at her dress 
and hair, and then with the eyes of an enraptured 
lover at her beautiful face. He said nothing. 
His smile was sufficient compliment. By it she 
knew that he had marked her ‘^perfect.” 

The young lovers danced together again and 
again. Spectators, forgetting the other dancers, 
watched only that godlike pair. After the close 
of a dreamy waltz the two, at Marmion’s request, 
left the room. They went to a veranda, an ex- 
tensive and inviting place, rendered both restful 
and pleasing with pretty hassocks, easy chairs, 
beautiful rugs and flowering plants. Marmion 
chose a seat by a rare exotic. There they sat 
down. He was gazing passionately upon Imo- 
gene ; she was looking up into the starry heavens. 

‘‘Dear Imogene,” he said, “I love you — I have 
brought you here to tell you that I love you with 
a love as deathless as those stars. Do you love 
me, darling? Will you love me? Can you love 
me.?^” 

Speech had fled from her trembling lips, but 
she laid one hand in his and he read her answer 
in her eyes. 


CHAPTER XIV 


When Marmion was alone and thought over 
his engagement he felt a little ashamed. His 
conscience that had slept while he devised the 
plan by which he won Imogene roused enough to 
slightly rebuke him. But he hushed its feeble 
complaint with saying that he loved her. Why 
he loved her could not alter facts. He loved her. 
Various men had various reasons for loving. 
Some loved for beauty, some for cleverness, some 
for goodness, some for wealth. 

‘T love for wealth; but love is nothing but 
love regardless of how it is evoked,” he decided 
with great complacence. am rich but not so 
rich that I need not be richer. My wealth, plus 
Imogene’s, may, with skillful management, make 
me a multi-millionaire some day. Gold rules 
the world and I am for power.” 

Marmion had never been so explicit when he 
spoke to Imogene. He had said just enough to 
send her home intensely happy. Her great joy 
repelled sleep. It was supreme bliss to be awake 
and meditate, hope and remember. She sat down 
on a low stool by the open window of her room 
and looked up at the radiant firmament. The 
moon had set but the light around Imogene was 
brighter than the flame of many suns. 

^As deathless as those stars,’ ” she murmured 
85 


86 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


with trembling lips as she looked up at the 
starry sky. ‘‘ ‘As deathless as those stars,’ ” 
she repeated. The words were so sweet because 
they spoke to her of Marmion. They were the 
first verse in love’s immortal poem. She lay 
down and scanned the hexameter in her dreams 
when morning began to unfurl its gray ensign 
across the sky. 

The day had nearly reached its noon when Imo- 
gene awoke from rosy dreams for which reality 
was rich aliment. She had promised to receive 
Marmion in the afternoon. He was corporeal 
punctuality and at the appointed hour was an- 
nounced. Imogene went down, looking her pret- 
tiest in white and pink. She held out her hand 
in greeting. Marmion kissed the proffered hand 
and smiled. 

“Darling, you have remembered.?^” 

“I have remembered and am happy,” she re- 
plied with charming frankness. 

“But our covenant lacks a seal. Let me seal 
it so.” 

He bowed his graceful head over her blushing 
face, and she — blind girl, — saw only the angel 
in his blue eyes. The imps lurking in their 
depths had, like a chameleon, assumed the aspect 
of the angel of Truth beneath whose wing it 
crouched. He gave her one long ardent kiss, 
and she did not know that he whose kisses should 
have been holy unction had defiled her virgin lips. 

“May I see ‘papa’ this afternoon.?^” Marmion 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


87 


asked. ‘‘I would know our fate in its entirety.” 

“He is in the library.” 

Mr. Hillman was reading a paper when Mar- 
mion entered. 

“Glad to see you, Franklin,” he said in his 
habitual good-humor. “I was just reading of 
the political conditions in your district. Will 
you let your friends name you for a candidate 
If you secure the nomination I see no reason why 
you should not win. What do you think of the 
situation.?^” 

“Nothing,” Marmion answered. “I have 
thought of that which it is nobler to strive for 
than for office, that which it is sweeter to win 
than an election — ^your daughter, Mr. Hillman. 
I love her and with your consent she will be my 
wife.” 

Marmion’s face was flushed; his voice was full 
of feeling. Mr. Hillman looked at him gravely. 

vWell, Franklin, if she wishes,” he answered 
deliberately. “Let her come to me. I will hear 
her.” 

Surely she loved Marmion. There was no fur- 
ther doubt of it when she stood in her father’s 
presence. He read it in the bloom on her young 
face and in the light in her dark eyes. 

“Imogene,” he said, “shall I consent to your 
marrying Marmion Franklin.?” 

“Yes, if you would please me,” she murmured 
with sweet simplicity that made her words more 
charming. 


88 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


^‘Then, to you I give her, Marmion. Help her 
to be good and keep her happy.’^ 

‘‘You have given your injunction amiss,” Mar- 
mion said. “The good are always happy; hence, 
her happiness is sure. Bid me imbibe the virtues 
of this noble woman that I may be, indeed, worthy 
of your priceless gift.” 


CHAPTER XV 


Three years had passed since Harry Tracy 
bade kindred and friends good-by and went away 
to school. For three years he had fought man- 
fully against ignorance. He refused to raise the 
white flag even in summer, but was always among 
the first who enrolled for ^^vacation courses.” 
Three years before, he had thought with pain of 
leaving Mother and Sally; now he thought with 
joy of returning to them. The reunion seemed 
so near; his hope of years seemed so near fulfill- 
ment. Only fifty- two weeks more and the goal 
would be reached; only twelve months more and 
the sacrifice would be complete; only one year 
more and he would be again with Sally and 
Mother. Again he would hear Sally’s merry 
laugh and listen to Mother’s motherly wisdom 
that knowledge of books could not transcend. 

His fourth year at school should be Sally’s last 
in the little old log cabin in the country ; it should 
be Mother’s last in the rude three-room house 
where she had lived too long. Powerful Fate ac- 
quiesced in so much that the frail man planned. 

Sally should the next year be installed in some 
good school; Mother should live in a nice home, 
have gas for illumination and coal for fuel. The 

man alone builded that castle, but he did not 

' 


90 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


know it, and his countenance, therefore, was all 
aglow while he placed the fair material with which 
he built. Sometimes Providence hides to-morrow 
from man’s eyes because a sight of the coming 
day might unnerve him for the present and make 
him cease striving for the great ends to which 
Hope is a wonderful incentive. 

Harry was very happily situated, having been 
received as a son in the family of Mr. Silvam, 
who had long been one of Mr. Hillman’s bosom 
friends. Harry did one thing of which neither 
Mr. Silvam nor Mr. Hillman approved: He ap- 
prenticed under an artificer, who, being kindly 
disposed toward him, cordially received him at 
any hour when he could be present and taught 
him all, even to the least detail, that stood for 
thoroughness in his useful trade. It was the 
thought of the older men that the simultaneous 
training of head and hand might be injurious. 
But Harry contended for the twofold culture; his 
seniors yielded to his will; consequently, he made 
both books and tools his stepping stones to higher 
things. 

Many residents of the town learned to know 
Harry and admired him. Many of the students 
at the school loved him. Several of those stu- 
dents had formed the committee that met Harry’s 
train. How one of them laughed behind his com- 
rades when they saw the queer face, the short, 
bulky body and long limbs of the first eager man 
who swung off from the passenger coach! He 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


91 


called the new-comer a joke. But Harry soon 
proved by his recitation in the class-room and his 
demeanor everywhere that the man was serious 
enough, despite his comical frame. Three years 
later when the jester sat on the campus with 
two of his chums he acknowledged his error. 

‘T was mistaken,” he said, ‘Vhen I called Tracy 
a joke. He is a thorough man — as kind and no- 
ble in disposition as he is comical in physique.” 

“Indeed, Ryan ; but I have one criticism, — he is 
too good.” 

“What would your Puritan forefathers say if 
they knew you condemn a man for being good.^^” 
“Peace be to their dust! but I will have it, — 
Tracy is too good. He will not haze because it 
is ‘barbarous’; he will not join us in that prac- 
tical joke planned against McCoy — ” 

“Because everything against McCoy ought to 
be desperately in earnest. I dread him, for he 
wears ‘mathematics’ emblazoned on his forehead. 
To me he is, therefore, always terrible. Mathe- 
matics I detest! It is a thing I can never mas- 
ter and I revolt against being its slave. It may 
slay me yet because of my rebellion. Such would 
have been my fate before now if Tracy had not 
helped me out whenever some deuced problem was 
making my fight for ‘passing up’ seem lost.” 

“Tracy is always helping somebody out. He 
happened upon us in the nick of time the other 
day and helped poor Jenkins out when Britt as- 
sailed him. Words flew like lightnings from a 


92 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


cloud. Britt would have come to blows, but he 
feared the odds.” 

“Britt was egregiously in the wrong. He 
seemed to have had a deep grudge against Jen- 
kins because Jenkins beat Morris in the debate.” 

“Foolish fellow! Jenkins’s triumph is ours. 
He should be grateful for that and by no means 
abuse Jenkins for Morris’s defeat. The puny 
victor did not make his giant intellect.” 

“Jenkins did not create his genius to be sure. 
But you forget that the fundamental principle of 
race-prejudice is to make folk suffer not for what 
they do but for what God gives them.” 

“Has the affair gotten to the professors.^” 
asked a third member of the group. 

“No; the faculty have not ears long enough 
to reach everywhere we go, and peaching is capi- 
tal crime by the laws of our alumni,” Ryan re- 
plied. 

“So, you think race prejudice was at the root 
of it ; or, was Britt merely influenced by personal 
enmity against Jenkins.^ They were not on 
friendly terms.” 

“Prejudice was responsible for it all. From 
the very first Britt objected to our school’s rep- 
resentation by a Negro ; and now, the very 
thought of a Negro’s victory over a white man 
pierces him like a dagger. His ^race pride’ 
urged him to avenge Morris’s defeat. But you 
are duller than any of your fellow-students if 
you do not know that Britt is not and has never 


A LOOKING-GLASS 93 

been on friendly terms with any Negro in our in- 
stitution.” 

‘‘His long line of New England ancestry is not 
responsible for his spirit’s casting in such a mold. 
The gentleman at your right is a living witness 
that I speak the truth. He came of that fine old 
stock and not long ago said of you, behind your 
back, ‘I feel honored in having that young man on 
my list of friends.^ ” 

The “young man” smiled his appreciation for 
the esteem in which he was held, but the Puritan’s 
scion laughingly charged Ryan with “capital 
crime.” 

“You surely cannot call that peaching,” Ryan 
said. “If it is, why, devil take the laws of our 
alumni! An anomaly like Britt would make a 
monk disloyal to his vows. The New England 
blood turned a complete somersault when it en- 
tered Britt’s veins.” 

“Forty years since the war have unearthed 
other curiosities. The South whose worst foes in 
the last four decades have been her own citizens 
— the mob and the demagogue — occasionally 
counterpoises those Yankee oddities. Now and 
then, by dint of birth, the Northern spirit is put 
in a casket labeled ‘Southerner,’ as if Nature, 
when packing her jewels and dross for the natal 
transportation, mixed her chests just to bewilder 
us as she did the ancients who marveled that a 
good thing had come out of Nazareth. 

“Seriously, the few fair-minded, level-headed. 


94 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


large-hearted citizens that my native section has 
recently produced have in their advent all the 
prophetic cheerfulness we see in the shining blue 
spot out west after the terrible storm has raged 
and the black clouds are still formidably muster- 
ing/' 

‘‘God knows the North ought to produce some 
‘fair-minded, level-headed, large-hearted’ citizen 
to occupy the Executive Mansion and others of 
the same stamp to fill her seats in Congress. If 
the President and the majority in Congress were 
men — if you doubt what ‘men’ means, Holland de- 
fines the term — our sky would be sunny and cloud- 
less. Flagrant injustice promenades boldly be- 
cause the people in authority smile on it and con- 
done its ravishes. I hold that the worst villains 
in this land are not those comparatively insignif- 
icant millions at whom the world stares because 
of their utter disregard of man’s law and Christ’s 
gospel in their method of dealing with the weaker 
element of American citizens. The worst villains 
are those who are elected to support the Consti- 
tution but do not support it ; those who are elected 
to defend the rights of all citizens but calmly 
suffer the helpless to be persecuted and robbed. 
Patriotism demands that we all pray, ‘God, give us 
men !’ 

“Patriotism is not as tactful as he, or she, or it 
ought to be. You see, some of us Americans are 
Jews, some of us are Christians, some Catholic 
and some are Protestants. I vote that we pray 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


95 


God, the Holy Virgin and Christ to deliver our 
nation from the purgatory where those devilish 
Dutch traders cast us.’’ 

believe, Ryan, that our prayer will be an- 
swered in consequence of a unified action by North 
and South, Negro and Caucasian,” the Southerner 
gravely answered. ^^The best of both sections, 
the best of both races, acting together — ‘con- 
tending with men for the birthright of man’ — 
will give a happy and sane solution to the race 
problem that when once solved is solved forever.” 

Ryan shivered. 

“A chill on this fair day?” the New Englander 
asked. 

“I tremble at every word that suggests mathe- 
matics. The mere mention of a ‘problem’ for 
‘solution’ makes me shiver.” He again forced 
himself to tremble. 

“You are a freak if thinking on our race prob- 
lem cools your blood. It makes mine boil. It 
ought to be solved in our day, for it must be 
solved by us or the millions yet to be. We are 
cowards if we shirk and worse than cowards if 
we are content with patching the matter. It is 
no abnormity. It is written in black and white 
like other problems and must be worked out cor- 
rectly in order to be solved at all.” 

“A few faithful ones are working nobly at it,” 
the Southerner observed. “As the work of solu- 
tion progresses we behold some masterful figures, 
though we are still regretting that such as Fred- 


96 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


erick Douglass and Charles Sumner have been 
erased. But I am forced to differ from you a 
little. America’s problem is an anomaly. It has 
many zeros which, no matter where they are 
placed, diminish the value of the integer. Fur- 
thermore, whenever we come to a summing up of 
the situation every zero must be counted, and the 
perplexity of the problem is greater because the 
zeros are added. We find them daily idling on 
the farm, living by their wits in cities, rolling dice 
and drinking spirits, and promenading bedecked 
in shining shoes and with painted faces. Some 
with their legs in trousers ; some with their heads 
under plumed hats. Some are white; some are 
black. The one hates and the other mistrusts 
everything in the opposite race.” 

‘‘There comes a figure,” Ryan soon exclaimed. 
“Is it masterful?” He seemed to have been sud- 
denly reconciled to a term that suggested mathe- 
matics for he hallooed to the “figure” and invited 
it to join him and his companions. 

“You are welcome, Tracy,” Ryan assured it, 
“for, you see, we need you. That is the funda- 
mental principle of modern Republican politics. 
We want Jenkins’s opinion of coeducational 
schools. No doubt he has confided in you — the 
author of his salvation and the finisher of Britt.” 

“No, he has not. But, that you may not be 
wholly disappointed, I will give you mine. Let 
me sit down beside you and figure it out.” 

“Go to the devil !” Ryan benignly recommended. 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


97 


‘‘By George! I could easily forgive the Dutch 
all the woes their fell act bequeathed us if I could 
only be revenged on the Arabs.” 

“Decidedly American,” commented the South- 
erner with a smile both arch and sad. “Such dis- 
criminative policy is more or less the standard 
of justice in our courts North and South, — the 
white criminal is forgiven, the black one is not.” 

Ryan was embarrassed. As usual Tracy 
helped him out, saying blithely, “Though Saxon 
or Norman or Dane they be — ” 

“All of them are Arabs who would make me 
toil with figures.” As he snatched the conclu- 
sion from Tracy, Ryan gave his hand a pressure 
that thanked him for the suggestion. “We will 
now hear your opinion provided you will submit 
it in English and let all Arabic ‘be forgot and 
never brought to mind.’ ” 

Harry spoke briefly : “The co-educational 
schools are one of the most tangible steps made 
toward forming of the American people one na- 
tion instead of two, — ‘a consummation devoutly 
to be wished.’ ” 

“For that I, also, heartily endorse them,” said 
the Southerner. 

“Yes,” Ryan agreed, “they have a tendency to 
reconcile and unite the hostile and sundered ele- 
ments of our nation. As long as the Negro is 
ostracised as a leper he will be trammeled like a 
slave.” 

Displaying as much enthusiasm as his fore- 


98 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


fathers did when they flocked to Faneuil Hall, the 
man from the East countenanced the sentiment 
of his three friends. 

‘^America is antagonistic to her Constitution 
and ridiculously incompatible with the axiomatic 
principles to which she was dedicated while she 
compels the Negro to attend or teach in schools 
where only Negroes are enrolled, or even to af- 
filiate with churches in charge of Negroes, or to 
live in districts where only Negroes reside, or to 
ride in cars for the transportation of Negroes 
only. The heart of every patriot cries out 
against such self-stultification.” 

‘‘God give us patriots,” Ryan prayed in an 
undertone that did not interrupt the speaker who 
had not yet reached his conclusion: “I am sure 
the Negro wars against it as a body of patriotic 
citizens no less than as a race of courageous men.” 

“I like that phrase, — ‘courageous men,’ ” 
Harry said. “Courageous men who are willing 
to own that they come of a race that was, for 
more than two centuries, American slaves, but 
there was, in my opinion, all the while a baser 
dishonor in which the Constitution did not license 
the Negro to share ; ‘courageous men’ who proudly 
but not arrogantly boast the truth that in less 
than fifty years, with their fetters broken but 
not taken off, they have progressed more rapidly 
than any manumitted people in ancient, mediaeval 
or modern times.” 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


99 


‘^Take the fetters off of them and in less than 
fifty years hence it will be whites, Britt’s posterity 
not excepted, trying to ^pass,’ eh?” 

Unheeding Ryan’s humor, Harry continued : 
‘‘I am sure that every man who is broad enough 
to rejoice in the great achievements of his fellow- 
men notes with pride the taxable property the 
Negro has acquired, his great decrease of illiter- 
acy, his line of efficient professional persons, and 
inventors who have patents on inventions which 
prove that genius has no color-prejudice.” 

“ ‘Ah ! how thankful I shall be, 

If I haply live to see 
Every American 

Stamped with Genius’s royal brand/ 

I am sincere, though I spoke in rhyme.” 

‘^There is no doubt of it, Ryan. It is a poet’s 
privilege to express himself in verse.” 

‘‘Thanks ! You know I am heartily in sym- 
pathy with the Negro as every Jew and all the 
Irish ought to be. You know also, or I herewith 
solemnly declare that more than two decades ago 
John A. Ryan, the successful San Francisco un- 
dertaker who wears the shamrock in homage to 
the land of his fathers, did undertake to woo and 
wed Miss Rebecca Jacobs, a comely Jewess. Of 
that holy union I am the fruit. 0 Father Abra- 
ham, the soul of such a progeny must be the devil 


100 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


himself, sure, if it is not in full sympathy with 
all who are oppressed. Show me a Jew that has 
heard of Russia or Irish who know Erin’s story 
and are nevertheless of those who oppress the 
Negro and you will show me — ” 

‘‘Many of your fellow-citizens,” the New Eng- 
lander informed him. 

“A vile sort, then, but — well it is a terrible out- 
rage,” Ryan answered and with an “ahem” went 
on: “When I was younger and tried to see a 
cure for the evil that has maimed our Nation I 
used to look to the home where presides woman 
to whom I ascribed purity and compassionate 
catholicity as broad as the Wisdom that, ‘hath in 
one blood made all nations of men.’ I thought 
of her as the angel who would trouble the waters 
in which the nation should step and be healed. In 
recent years I have abandoned my poetical fancy. 
The prosaic truth is that the primeval order of 
things still stands : Woman yields first to the 
devil and influences man to follow.” 

“Be that as it may, I think you have overesti- 
mated the power of home training; for, if the 
school’s influence is contrary to that of the home 
the child grows to be only a half-man, at the best,” 
the Southerner said. “Even though the Church 
should dutifully drill him in the principles of 
God’s impartial dealing with the man he could 
never recover more than half of his lost part. 
One-fourth could never be regained. Politi- 
cians — ” 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


101 


Harry interrupted him : ‘^The statesman is 
not so much a factor as he is a product. The 
home and school mold him. He is a villain or a 
man, according to the weakness or strength of 
his moral sinew for which the mother’s and teach- 
er’s influence are supremely accountable. Like- 
wise, they who are identified with the press, they 
who are the heads of Churches, were children 
first. Throughout that ductile stage from in- 
fancy to maturity they were the clay; the school 
and home were the potter. In the home children 
absorb the instincts, right or wrong, of dealing 
with their fellow-men. Not by precept only does 
the mother instill such lessons, but the child sucks 
them in from her demeanor as naturally as he sucks 
in the milk from her breast; hence, his whole moral 
system is strengthened or debilitated according to 
the liberality and purity of the mother^s mind and 
character. At school those tendencies are aided 
or counteracted according to the teacher’s stand 
for right or for wrong. By and by the children 
become adults and go forth to their various voca- 
tions. But no man liveth unto himself. The 
press, the Church, the State — men of all walks — 
are mutually affected. Therefore, the influence 
of home and school predominates life from the 
cradle to the grave and maintains government 
pure or corrupt, humane or barbarous, despotic 
or free. 

‘^There could be no press, no church, no state 
if there were no home and school. Home and 


102 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


school are like the trunk of this tree that shelters 
me. Those other things are like the branches. 
Let the trunk become rotten and the branches will 
be good for nothing ; keep the trunk in good con- 
dition and the branches will be strong and beauti- 
ful. 

‘‘The trunk is evidently very diseased and the 
branches are infected by the contagion.” 

The tree to which Harry literally referred at- 
tested to the truth of Ryan’s remarks ; but if 
Ryan spoke figuratively it was done with more 
levity than the observation justified. 

On concluding his remark Ryan sprang to his 
feet. His comrades instantly saw that he espied 
some one. He was always inadvertently sentinel 
for whatever group he helped form. 

“Great Scott !” he exclaimed, “there comes 
Prof. McCoy! So, 

“ ‘ Boys, I leave you here a little, while as yet my mind 
is calm; 

Leave you here, and when you want me, send word 
that McCoy has gone.’ ” 

Ryan walked away. The professor of mathe- 
matics went up to the three friends still seated 
on the campus. He informed Harry that the 
clerk wanted him. Harry went into the office 
where he received a slip of paper on which were 
the words : “Mother and niece are very sick. 
Come at once.” 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


103 


Harry staggered rather than walked from the 
room. The world seemed to swim around him 
and darkness to settle on everything. His friends 
said cheerily, ^^They are only sick. There is 
hope.” 

Perhaps there was, but where It had escaped 
from poor Harry’s bosom. His feeling was one 
of despair, but yet he prayed. All the while that 
the train was speeding him Southward to the 
home he had only three years ago left, his soul 
momently cried out, God, manifest thy mercy 
unto me. Heaven has a multitude of angels ; oh, 
let me keep my only two.” 


CHAPTER XVI 


It was announced at a large reception that Miss 
Hillman was engaged to Attorney Franklin. So- 
ciety at once went mad with homage to them. 
The influence of such madness was so far reach- 
ing that fashionable clothiers were sure of a sale 
if when presenting a suit to a fastidious customer, 
they could say, ‘‘Attorney Franklin just bought 
one of this cut.” When Miss Hillman wore large 
hats, small hats were decidedly out of style. Art- 
ists, in their conception of “Genius and Love,” 
painted winged creatures with the faces of Mar- 
mion and Imogene and in “Strength and Beauty” 
portrayed Marmion’s kingly form and Imogene’s 
graceful softness. Poets wrote odes in honor of 
the lionized pair; the virtuosi, with them for their 
inspiration, delighted society with most exquisite 
music; the literati toasted them in eloquent en- 
comia ; and at every ball the orchestra played the 
“Franklin Dance” and the “Hillman Waltz.” 

Imogene was perfectly happy, only “happy” 
was too commonplace in its significance to ade- 
quately describe her spiritual state. She thought 
of time and space as a great and glorious star in 
which she and Marmion dwelt like two divinities. 

Thinking of Marmion and thinking for Mar- 
mion were Imogene’s twin joys, for she worshiped 
that handsome demigod. Every other object in 
104 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


105 


life was secondary to the three-fold one, — the aim 
to promote Marmion’s happiness, to advance his 
interests, to satisfy his ambition. Thinking for 
Marmion was her favorite delight because it drew 
her out of a passive existence into a life of stir- 
ring activity. 

If Marmion were booked for a lecture she first 
reviewed the discourse with him, and together they 
would work it out until she declared the whole was 
“fine.” His audience invariably sustained her. 
She never failed to read the papers that carried 
the text of his speeches and, to her own taste, ar- 
range an epitome. She would also clip from the 
editorial column whatever was said in praise of 
him. Those two things she preserved in a scrap- 
book to which she gave the lengthy title, “Mar- 
mion as He is and as Others see Him.” They 
were golden moments, — those in which she perused 
that book. 

One morning she sat with him in her father’s 
library. They were looking over the manuscript 
of a lecture he was booked to deliver. Marmion 
was touched by the gravity of her countenance, 
the deep, earnest light in her dark eyes as she 
wittily insinuated her ideas into the composition. 

Marmion was compelled to admire her mag- 
nanimity although it was such that he could not 
understand. He told her openly of his admira- 
tion ; his lack of comprehension was implied. 

Imogene laughed and glanced up at him. He 
smiled at the shyness in her look, but he suspected 
nothing by her blushing. 


106 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


“Men are so dull,” she finally bravely asserted. 

Marmion smiled again and pleaded guilty of 
her charge. 

“Men will never understand a woman’s heart,” 
she continued. “Her depth of feeling and the 
acts to which it impels her will forever be a mys- 
tery to the — forgive me, Marmion, — stolid mas- 
culine mind.” 

He swore by the raven tresses that kissed her 
cheek and kept envy rampant in his breast that 
he would forgive her all things. 

“Hush,” she said gently, laying her finger 
lightly on his lips. “Look here.” She held up 
her hand on which was the ring he had given her 
as the tangible pledge of their love. “This ring 
means more than any other can. It is set with a 
diamond and its significance is to that of a wed- 
ding ring what a diamond is to gold. Why, wed- 
ding rings merely testify that ceremonies have 
been performed; engagement rings testify that 
two hearts have surrendered to each other and 
become one. 

“I should be unworthy of you, Marmion, if I 
could distinguish between your interests and mine. 
It shall be my supreme joy to aid you in soaring 
to higher heights. I shall rejoice to see the 
world pompously outpour its honors upon you! 
I will not envy you, but shall be satisfied. The 
moon receives sufficient light from the sun; her 
husband’s fame should satisfy the heart and brain 
of an ambitious woman. 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


107 


is not the Divine purpose that a woman 
should succeed Columbus, Newton, Stanley, 
L’Ouverture, Beecher, or Chase. Man was made 
to rule the universe; woman’s rightful empire is 
her husband’s heart. The wife of a great man is 
revered wherever his name is told. The people 
may never see her but they adore her. Be great, 
dear Marmion, and it will be fame enough for me 
just to be your wife. But, you see, you must not 
canonize me yet. I am not a saint; for there is, 
as I have made you see, some selfishness under- 
lying my zeal for your greatness.” 

Marmion looked at her but did not speak. Her 
slim hands still held his papers, although her eyes 
saw nothing that was written there. She mis- 
construed Marmion’s silence and looked up tim- 
idly. 

^‘Ah, I have tired you,” she said softly as her 
eyes bashfully drooped. forgot to be discreet 
and, thoughtlessly permitting my tongue to be 
prodigal with my heart’s sentiments, have been 
less modest than becomes a woman.” 

^‘No, no, Imogene,” he hastily contradicted. 
‘‘You have interested me and I have not one dis- 
paraging thought of you. I love you, I admire 
you, I revere you more than ever.” 

Marmion’s words, for once when he talked to* 
Imogene were sincere. Had there come many 
more such moments as that when all that was fair- 
est in Imogene rose before him he might have 
loved her as one’s afiianced lover ought. 


CHAPTER XVII 


“Turn, papa, and see if I do.” 

Mr. Hillman was sitting before a window. He 
was looking out over the snow-mantled city. 
The prospect from his window was new, for the 
Hillman’s had been only a few months domiciled 
at the beautiful home where they now lived. The 
house they formerly occupied had been sold at 
Imogene’s demand because some rising poor peo- 
ple moved next door. The objectionable residents 
were genteel but poor. Imogene treated them 
with the utmost contempt. Some rich people, not 
so refined as the present occupants, had previously 
dwelt there. Imogene’s conduct toward them had 
always been neighborly and amiable. The poor 
folk kept the appearance of the house up to the 
standard but they were poor. Just because they 
were poor Imogene declared that they were odious 
and intolerable. For the sake of peace Mr. Hill- 
man moved. Some people might have resorted to 
incendiarism to rid themselves of the detestable 
parties; but Mr. Hillman could never be guilty 
of a bestial act. He simply sold out and bought 
in another section of the city. The mayor^s pala- 
tial mansion Vas now almost opposite his own 
and for blocks in every direction there lived only 
wealthy aristocrats. Imogene was happy. 

108 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


109 


Looking from his window, Mr. Hillman saw at 
some distance a church whose towering spire in- 
vited man’s thought to heaven, but nearer he 
beheld a magnificent dancing academy ; some 
happy maidens, their coats and caps gay with 
twigs of holly, passed in front of the houses op- 
posite his own where, on the door of one, was 
black crape and flowers; a fine sleigh, drawn by 
two milk-white horses and occupied by twice as 
many youths who were endowed with the Christ- 
mas spirit, dashed up the street but at the inter- 
section of the ways was compelled to glide less 
swiftly while a hearse rolled by; a woman, frail 
and poor, bowed with years and care, was thread- 
ing her way through the snow. He might have 
watched her as she moved slowly along in the 
mellow moonlight and glare of the lamps. But 
a voluptuous voice bade him ^‘turn,” and in obedi- 
ence to it he faced a princess arrayed in rich vel- 
vet and fine laces. 

‘‘How do you like Imogene asked. 

“The sunburst Marmion gave you is a princely 
gift, but your own loveliness eclipses the brilliancy 
of those rare diamonds.” 

He grieved that a platter with a beautifully 
fair outside should be hideous within. 

“I shall be off soon, papa,” she said. “Mar- 
mion has come. Will you be down to see 
him ?” 

“No, dear. Give him my compliments.” 

“Then, I must kiss you good-by here.” 


110 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


‘‘And good-night, too; for I am sure that be- 
fore you return I shall have retired.” 

“Papa, you do not look happy,” she observed. 
“Have you been thinking of that old woman across 
the street?” 

“Yes. How happy she is now! The shriveled 
form is perfect, the dim eyes are as bright as 
angels’ and behold the face of God, the ears have 
heard the seraphs’ song and the tongue that spoke 
a stammering dialect here is shouting in perfect 
speech, ‘Holy, holy, holy’ before the eternal 
throne.” 

The transition he imaged made no impression 
on Imogene. That her thoughts were quite for- 
eign to all he had said was very evident in her 
next words: “Oh, papa, I am so happy. There 
was never a merrier season than this. Why do 
you turn from me?” 

His face was toward the house of mourning. 

“I pray you, papa, — oh, papa, please cease to 
think of that old woman. It makes you sad.” 

“You are mistaken.” 

“You look sad.” 

“I do not deny that I am, but thinking of her 
does not make me so. Long before you came I 
had been noting some contrasts in the view from 
my window. I own that they made me sick at 
heart ; but when I turned away, lo I I saw you, 
and my sorrow grew upon me.” 

She looked at him in open surprise. It never 
occurred to her that she had anything to do with 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


111 


prolonging the panorama of contrasts that sad- 
dened him. There was certainly nothing in her 
aspect to create his morbid mood, for Marmion 
had just told her that she was the emblem of hap- 
piness. Probably he was thinking of the time 
when she must leave him. What else could sadden 
him.? 

‘‘Thoughts of me are grieving you, papa.?” she 
asked tenderly. “Then, they must be thoughts 
in connection with my leaving you. That part- 
ing need not be, papa. I can easily induce Mar- 
mion to give up our honeymoon trip ; or, why will 
you not accompany us.?” 

He smiled. 

“Goosie, Marmion might not consent to such 
chaperonage. However, I was not looking so far 
into the future.” 

“Do you want me to stay at home to-night.? 
Will you be lonely.? Bid me stay and I will re- 
fuse to go.” 

“What would Marmion say?” 

“I am not amenable to Marmion yet and I 
hope I shall never be if his pleasure is your 
pain.” 

She had a pretty pose before her father and 
her soothing tone grew even more tender as she 
added softly her lips close to his ear: “Tell me, 
dear papa, if I can do anything to make you 
happy. I will do all.” 

She spoke without knowing that her lips belied 
her heart. She had never before showed such a 


112 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


disposition to sacrifice for his joy, but as the tide 
flowed in, Mr. Hillman endeavored to make it serve 
him. 

‘‘I ask only this,” he began deliberately; she 
was all attention: ‘^Lay aside your arrogance, 
be merciful and kind — at any rate just — unto the 
poor, remembering that the Lord is the Maker of 
us all and all who live acceptable lives are accepta- 
ble to Him.” 

He saw a shadow instantly supplant the light 
of her countenance, the lips that had smiled 
curled. No other devout idolater could have 
shown more disdain if called on to forsake his 
gods. 

‘‘All of all nations, papa. You omitted that 
qualifying word. Mark the distinction! I hate 
a class.” 

“As if,” he thought, “all nations do not em- 
brace all classes. But it is the rule of prejudice 
to create technicalities where there are none and 
argue without reasoning.” 

“I hate a class,” she repeated with a look of 
triumph like an acquitted culprit’s. 

“And hate them with an inestimable loss to your 
own soul and an injury to them. You could love 
them, befriend them and encourage them in their 
struggle to rise. So doing, you could not harm 
either yourself or them. Look at our neighbors 
across the street. Does God chide them.? It is 
only God’s approval that man can rightfully 
seek. He commands all who are high to conde- 


A LOOKING-GLASS 113 

scend to men of low estate ; and he that humbleth 
himself shall be exalted. 

‘‘Unless there be a surcease of memory in the 
Beyond, that old saint, who shall no more be 
wounded by the contumely of the haughty rich, 
praises God not only because He gave His Son to 
die for her but also because, through the agency 
of those neighbors you criticize. He crowned her 
last years with peace and plenty. Her body lies 
in those rich folk’s parlor; it will be buried in 
their lot.” 

“I know those people have very absurd notions 
of the poor. They are mad with sentiment but 
void of reason. I would break the turf of my 
grave and rise if the poor were laid beside me in 
burial. I believe in the segregation of the classes 
even in a cemetery.” 

“You should let the virtues of the poor hide 
their rags ; you should let their intelligence cover 
the lowliness of their state.” 

“Their intelligence ! Indeed ! Have they any ? 
The deeds that move civilization onward are the 
burden of the rich. Their virtues ! Who goes 
to the gallows and the chair The poor. The 
penitentiaries, workhouses and jails are crowded 
with the poor. Still, when pleading for them you 
mention their intelligence and virtues ? Pre- 
posterous ! I have no patience with your argu- 
ment. The poor — the poor — ” 

“Have no rights that rich folk should respect.” 

“Precisely.” 


114 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


‘‘Taney anticipated you years ago in judgment 
against another class of people.^’ 

She looked at him in sullen silence and turned 
her richly jeweled bracelet. He was the next to 
speak. 

“Then you deceitfully vowed to do all you could 
to make me happy.” He spoke dejectedly. 

“No; I was sincere. I do not retract. Ask 
what you will. I swear to do all but that one 
thing.” 

She waited eagerly for his reply, hoping that 
he would name something else essential to his hap- 
piness. How gladly she would do it and prove 
her love. 

“I require nothing besides,” he answered, “for 
all else is useless without that one thing. The 
strongest professions of Christianity are bold hy- 
pocrisies and prayer itself is a gross insult to the 
Christ who died for all men, if the heart of the 
professor or petitioner is void of love that re- 
ceives all mankind as a family of brothers. 
Heaven is not for souls so dull that they do not 
know or so stubborn that they will not acknowl- 
edge, in theory and practice, that men are spir- 
itual and not material; for God is a Spirit and 
men are made in His image — Souls so narrow, so 
ignoble that they will let palpable or visible mat- 
ter affect their recognition of or their reward for 
intelligence and virtue are too base to inherit 
heaven, but shall surely have their portion in the 
lake of fire prepared for the devil and his angels.” 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


115 


Mr. Hillman had never spoken so strongly be- 
fore. Imogene, however, did not believe that he 
was an oracle and her eyes closed against the 
light. With herself on trial, she argued that 
there was something in God^s Word to compro- 
mise the situation and open heaven to those who 
profess to love God while they hate and trample 
men. She intended to some day be a Christian. 
But she had no conception of a Christianity that 
did not condone her arrogant attitude toward 
the poor. She had read in the Bible that God has 
no respect of persons, but she believed that meant 
the poor excepted. She had read in the infallible 
Book that he that professeth to love God whom 
he hath not seen and hateth his brother whom he 
hath seen is a liar; no liars enter the kingdom of 
heaven; and that Christ commanded all people to 
love one another. But she gave all that an in- 
terpretation that tolerated her prejudice; yet, she 
thought the heathen was across the sea and not 
in her father’s presence. 

There were tears in her eyes when Mr. Hillman 
finished speaking ; sorrow had painted mourn- 
ful shadows on the face that was at first so cheery. 
She put her arms around her father’s neck. How 
gentle and caressing she was ! 

‘Tapa,” she murmured, ‘^you know I love you. 
There has never been any friction in our lives ex- 
cept when you have implored me to ^respect the 
poor.’ Heaven witnesses that I have proper re- 
gard for the poor, but I will not allow any pre- 


116 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


sumption on their part. They shall never play 
the role of the Arab’s camel with me. They must 
know their place and stay there. That is my 
principle and I am inexorable. Ask anything but 
the alteration or renunciation of that and you 
shall have your desire.” 

Mr. Hillman looked at her with great pity in 
his eyes. 

‘‘I will carefully guard against all ‘friction in 
our lives’ henceforth,” he promised her. “When 
next condescension to the poor is sued for, you 
shall present the petition. You have deceived me. 
It only remains now for you to bid me good-by 
and go.” 

“No, papa. I will not leave you so. Take 
away the sting of your words. They are the most 
cruel that anyone has ever spoken to me. Oh, 
be kind.” 

She sank on her knees before him. Her 
beautiful face was set with pain, her eyes 
were dim with tears. Mr. Hillman’s father- 
heart caused him to relent. He lifted her to his 
bosom. 

“Be happy. Your distress deepens my sor- 
row,” he said compromisingly. 

Imogene smiled through her tears. With gentle 
words that abstracted her mind from the sub- 
ject that irritated her, he restored the sunshine 
to her countenance. She kissed him good-by and 
returned to Marmion. 

Mr. Hillman turned again to the window when 


A LOOKING-GLASS 117 

Imogene had left him. He saw the carriage bear 
her away to a grand charity ball. 

‘Toor girl! What can I ever do with her.?^” 
he sighed. “If I am stern, she rends me ; if I am 
lax, she is overbearing. Well, to-night I declare 
for peace if silence is a guarantee.’^ 

Much to Imogene’s gratification Mr. Hillman 
kept that night’s resolution well. She gave to his 
silence, however, the wrong significance. She al- 
lowed it the meaning from which she could draw 
the greatest pacification: He was growing con- 
vinced that the poor were an inferior people and 
unworthy of the consideration he had once given 
them. 

It was an afternoon late in February when she 
and her father again talked together of the poor. 
She was alone with him. At his request she had 
just played and sung “Nearer, My God, to Thee.” 

“Some hymns grow old and hackneyed, but that 
one never will,” he remarked as she turned from 
the instrument. “The aged and the young still 
love it and find it sweet in life and death the 
same. 

“There are so many dead,” he said thought- 
fully after a short pause. “In early boyhood I 
wondered how ‘all who tread the globe are but a 
handful to the tribes that slumber in its bosom.’ 
Nor could I understand why grandfather said he 
knew more dead than living.” 

“Do not talk of death,” Imogene said. “It 
is gruesome. I love life — ^buoyant, sunny life.” 


118 A LOOKING-GLASS 

“So did she; yet, she was forced to go, with 
Death.” 

Imogene was somewhat surprised to find that 
his thought focussed on one person. Was it her 
mother.? Nearly twenty-two years had passed 
since she left him. Time, Patience and Resigna- 
tion had assuaged his grief but nothing could 
wholly remove the pain. Imogene was moved. 
She opened her locket and looked at the radiant, 
youthful face of her mother. 

“She was too young and beautiful to die,” Imo- 
gene said, after her worldly fashion. 

Her father did not observe her act; he had no 
intimation of the false idea his words fostered in 
her mind. 

“God knows best and does best,” he responded; 
“therefore He took her although only eleven sum- 
mers had spread their sweet blossoms at her feet. 
When the fairest of the flowers she loved had per- 
ished she lay down to sleep among them.” 

Imogene saw her mistake. 

“Of whom are you speaking, papa.?” 

“Of old Mrs. Tracy’s grandchild, little Sally.” 

Imogene was amazed on learning that he was 
aware of anything that befell those common peo- 
ple. They all had passed so completely out of her 
mind. 

“How do you know, papa?” 

“For the last three years I have had an excel- 
lent informant in the person of your Uncle Au- 
gust.” 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


119 


“Farmer Hillman, if you please.” 

Her prejudice was ever watchful. It compelled 
her to repudiate relationship with one as insignif- 
icant as the unlearned farmer. Her father, — 
weak man ! — for the sake of peace, pandered to her 
ignorance. 

“Farmer Hillman, then, has told me all things 
that have befallen them. Since our visit he has 
been a regular correspondent.” 

“Indeed! I have frequently observed in our 
mail a large envelope bedecked with hieroglyphics 
absolutely unintelligible to me. I know now from 
whom they all came. But, say 1 you are a genius 
if you truly deciphered a letter written so.” 

Yes ; he had deciphered them. By that means 
he had learned that when the measles was raging 
Mrs. Tracy thought it was only a child’s epidemic 
— too simple to be fatal — that children ought to 
have and, as one who conscientiously fulfills her 
duty, rushed Sally into its trail. 

Sally was sick, so one letter ran and eventually 
another said she was very sick. Mr. Hillman 
feared that the inability of the doctors to cope 
with the disease was responsible for its advance; 
and, consequently, he contrived to have a noted 
doctor take the case. The physician found two 
patients instead of one. He labored zealously 
for their lives, but labored without hope. Quacks 
had, as Mr. Hillman suspected, aided Sally’s dis- 
ease. It was beyond check. Mrs. Tracy was 
very old and afflicted with heart-trouble. Sally’s 


ISO 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


illness aggravated her affection. The great error 
that was demanding Sally’s life for retribution 
preyed on her day and night. Recovery was im- 
possible for both woman and child. They died. 
Farmer Hillman, in describing the death-scene 
to his brother, wrote, ‘‘Each murmured with her 
last breath: ‘Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer 
to Thee!’ ” 

“What became of the old woman Imogene 
asked. 

Mr. Hillman did not attempt to give her the 
details. He knew they would not interest her. 

“She died,” he briefly replied. “On the hill- 
side sleep the three generations, — grandmother, 
mother and child. The pretty birds with whose 
melodies Sally so often joined her childish notes 
sing a daily requiem for them all.” 

Imogene said nothing. If she thought of 
Harry she dared not ask of him. To take fur- 
ther interest in the poor might lead her father to 
think she had made some concessions. She was 
beginning to feel awkward. Happily, Marmion 
was at that moment announced. Rejoicing that 
she could gracefully leave the room, Imogene went 
out. 

Mr. Hillman continued in his reticent and cir- 
cumspect manner. He never mentioned the poor 
in Imogene’s presence. Whenever he saw an 
aspiring, struggling person who needed a lift 
he did what he could but never named 
the deed to Imogene. But news of his kind acts 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


121 


frequently reached her ears. Sometimes, on such 
hearings, she bit her lips in anger and disgust; 
sometimes she simply wondered when his fanat- 
icism would wear itself out. 

Mr. Hillman often censured himself for toler- 
ating Imogene^s illiberality and injustice. Yet, 
he feared that by forcing her into more reason- 
able behavior he might precipitate a hard, bitter 
quarrel from which a family rupture would spring ; 
for Imogene was very willful. She might with- 
draw from his roof and with her own fortune 
maintain herself independently. What could that 
profit the poor.? Would she not grow worse, 
freed entirely from his control.? He felt, never- 
theless, that the separation would be only tempo- 
rary, for he knew she loved him dearly. But the 
bitterness of the quarrel! It was not pleasant 
to contemplate. Thought of its horror prolonged 
his forbearance. But he was often harassed by 
knowledge of the fact that a quarrel and rupture 
were far more virtuous than seeming peace and 
union bought with the price of honor, the sacri- 
fice of those sterling human traits which make the 
strong the bold and uncompromising defenders 
of the weak. 

^What ever became of your mascot.?” Imogene 
asked one day when she and her father sat at 
lunch and some little incident recalled the hour of 
their dissension in Farmer Hillman’s house. 

^^My mascot! What do you mean.?” 

She laughed a cruelly roguish laugh. 


1S2 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


‘‘I admit that I should have been more definite, 
knowing that you have taken so many of those 
‘good-luck’ pieces of worthless miry clay on deck. 
What have they brought you more than a reduced 
purse.? Do you not fear that such freight will 
sink your ship.? Harry Tracy is the mascot I 
mean.” 

Mr. Hillman answered her inquiry as if it had 
been made in the most courteous manner. 

“He was very grieved by the death of his mother 
and niece. He was unwilling to leave the old 
place — ” 

“And will, of course, waste his life mourning 
around the three mounds on the hillside. A 
worthy man would lock his dead safely within his 
memory and go his way to make the life left him 
as grand as he could. That is what Marmion 
did when his parents died. But, what a brooding 
goose is to a soaring eagle, the spirit of the poor 
is to the brave, determined, all-conquering spirit 
of the rich.” 

Mr. Hillman did not heed the gauntlet she 
threw down. He began talking of an exquisite 
fern that was Imogene’s pride. The war was 
thereby averted. 

That same day Imogene helped pack Mr. Hill- 
man’s portmanteau in preparation for his visit 
to Mr. Silvam. She conversed very gayly with 
him of his prospective trip. She had very pleas- 
ant recollections of Mr. Silvam. He used to visit 
her father often when she was a child. Imogene 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


123 


never suspected that since then those visits had 
been dispensed with because of her bitter senti- 
ment against the poor. 

Imogene never thought once of Harry in con- 
nection with her father’s journey. She had never 
heard at what school he was located. It had never 
interested her. He might have been dead for all 
she knew or cared. She believed that his bereave- 
ment had taken him again to the farm and that 
he had remained there. Her father made no at- 
tempt to disabuse her mind. 

The arrival of Mr. Hillman at Mr. Silvam’s 
was the greatest and pleasantest surprise Harry 
had known since the day that he had met Fairy 
Gratitude at the river. 

Harry was looking well. Mr. Hillman knew that 
his recent grief had been subdued only by a manly 
fight. It had not left its trail on his plain face 
but conversation proved that the wells from which 
it sprung would overflow if his thoughts were 
plunged into the depths. 

‘‘How I wish that I had never left them at all,” 
he said when he and his benefactor were alone 
that night. “I have most creditably finished the 
academic course, and my college training, though 
incomplete, makes my education vastly more than 
I once thought possible. Education is what I so 
long prayed for, but it has cost me dearly. Once 
I believed it was only a poet’s fancy that called 
ambition a sin ; yet alas ! not only did it cause the 
angels’ fall, but it has also destroyed my paradise. 


124 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


If I had never left my loved ones we should all 
still be happy together.” 

Mr. Hillman knew Harry had not been happy 
even while his mother and niece lived; he under- 
stood, though, how the bereaved man could believe 
so in an hour of anguish. 

“Is there no means of altering the ancient de- 
cree that death and sorrow shall be the punish- 
ment of all who eat of the tree of knowledge O 
that I had been content in my ignorance ! Ambi- 
tion, thou art a curse! Mother and niece both 
brought down to death while I was toiling to 
reach the star to which Ambition urged me climb. 
How gloriously bright it was, but now it is dull 
as lead. My attainments cannot bless them whom 
I loved so well. For their sakes I was ambitious, 
but all that I hoped and planned for their enjoy- 
ment and edification has come to naught. Oh, 
Fate is cruel. Yet, what can I do but bear, since 
Fate is as impalpable as the wind that levels to 
the ground in a moment the magnificent struc- 
tures which men build and boast of for years and 
years.? So Fate has wrecked all the splendid cas- 
tles I erected! Oh, that it were a thing of form 
and matter that I could seize it, and pommel it; 
and make it restore to me my treasures ! If they 
must go, why should I not go with them.? Oh, 
that I were dead as they are!” 

Harry’s strong frame shook with emotion. Mr. 
Hillman maintained silence until the storm sub- 
sided. 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


125 


‘‘Talk not of Fate,” he then advised. “It is 
not a word for Christian lips. It is pagan. 
Our God is Providence, and, despite His darkest 
frown. He has a smiling face. Do not succumb 
to Sorrow and Disappointment. Those of heroic 
mold will, while God lives, hold up their heads in 
the face of every trial. Pray for meekness to 
kiss the rod that smites you, knowing that it is 
the rod of One too kind to be unmerciful and too 
wise to err.” 

After a long and fierce wrestle Harry con- 
quered his anguish, and arose, girded with 
strength from above. His countenance was inef- 
fably majestic and serene; his voice was full of 
trust and resignation as he arose in his Geth- 
semane and said to his fatherly friend, “Surely 
He sent you. I will trust in His infinite wisdom. 
He will forgive my foolish cries, guide me by His 
counsel and afterward receive me into glory where 
Mother and Sally are gone.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


People were out in great numbers to see a little 
opera and patronize a bazaar that were given for 
the benefit of an orphans’ asylum. Both grades 
of society were there and tickets retailed at two 
prices. The higher was for the rich, who had 
reserved seats; the cheaper was for the poor, of 
whom many were forced to stand. 

A number of ladies had arranged the bazaar. 
It was expected that after the opera every booth 
would be ‘‘sold out.” The opera was the work of 
Grace Benton, who had won enviable local repu- 
tation as a composer. The announcement that 
her new drama would be introduced that night 
had been an excellent drawing-card. 

Grace’s story told of a very rich man who loved 
a poor servant girl. His mother wept and 
fainted; his father threatened him with disinherit- 
ance when he informed them that a servant would 
be his bride. He scorned their efforts to make 
him traitor to his lady-love. He could not be so 
unmanly as to dry his mother’s tears by making 
his sweetheart’s flow, and love was more than a 
balance for all the wealth of the world. In their 
wrath the parents swore to resort to law, for in 
a moment of despair they forgot that the law 
was powerless to aid them — their son was no 
longer a minor. Finding all open methods un- 
126 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


127 


availing, they turned to trickery and deceit. 
They feigned reconciliation to their son^s choice, 
but plotted darkly against him. Lies and forg- 
ery were their tools They were nearly victorious 
when all the archeries of disloyal Fate warred 
against them. Their vile machinations were dis- 
covered and Love triumphed. 

The amateur actors were at their best and when 
the lovers whose fortunes were so contrasted 
united their destinies at the altar the audience — 
one person excepted — was jubilant. 

Imogene was thoroughly disgusted that a girl 
of Grace’s rank could so far forget her duty to 
her own as to let that little beggar triumph over 
rich folk. She admitted that the parents’ meth- 
ods were not what honor could recommend in deal- 
ings with their own caste. As it was, all their 
villainy was virtuous, for the intermarriage of 
rich and poor was a crime against which any 
weapon formed was holy. She would frankly tell 
Grace that her last creation was treason against 
the rich. 

‘^There is consolation in knowing that the opera 
is not drawn from real life, but is purely imag- 
inative,” said Marmion, who listened to Imogene’s 
complaint. 

“Very little,” she rejoined. “It is bad taste, 
defcidedly improper even in fiction. Such things 
tend to instill into the poor false ideas of who 
they are and what they have a right to be. I re- 
gret that some of them are here to-night.” 


128 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


Imogene had tried to have tickets priced beyond 
the reach of the poor, but she had been overruled. 
She really thought it absurd of the poor to wish 
to be present at an affair given by the rich and 
chiefly attended by them. What moved them to 
it but their vile spirit that thirsted for equality? 

Imogene often deceived herself with thinking 
that if the poor should cease striving to be equal 
with her, she would be their faithful guardian. 
But their restlessness and clamor for equality 
were unforgivable. Castes were made by Divine 
ordinance. The poor ought to be satisfled, but 
they were not. It was, therefore, the duty of 
the rich to preserve the position of their caste by 
any means, fair or foul. They must keep the 
gates that opened to lifers inestimable blessings 
forever “barred with gold.” From time imme- 
morial the poor had been the vassals of the rich. 
The old order was just. The world was made for 
rich people and wealth was a special deity that 
made them superior to the poor. Imogene would 
not suffer the attitude of others to make her rec- 
reant to her trust as a rich woman, but when 
others condemned her she called herself a heroine 
and martyr for the cause of her caste that was 
otherwise imperiled. 

As Imogene was replying to Marmion one of 
the objectionable poor passed near her. She 
contemptuously shrank back lest the touch of the 
lowly woman’s garments should defile her. Even 
that one act testified to her unfitness to be called 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


129 


cultured, but she did not know it, and to her ig- 
norance was bliss. She was very gratified in 
knowing that she had humiliated the neatly 
dressed, poor woman, who passed humbly on, won- 
dering if she were truly the rich girl’s inferior or 
was it only supposed so — if the rich were the 
chosen of the Lord and the poor only outcast Ish- 
maelites — if Wrong would some day be deposed 
and the scepter given to Right. 

Imogene would have not manifested such con- 
tempt for her father’s servants nor for the serv- 
ants of others if they had been in servants’ garb 
and gone near her to perform some servile duty. 
But the lowly creature so despicable in her eyes 
was, for that night at least, her own mistress, 
Imogene’s equal, being amenable to no other au- 
thority than was the haughty heiress, — the law. 
The plane of equality on which they both stood 
made the innocent offender doubly offensive. 

^^Our lives shall not always be infested by the 
poor,” Marmion told Imogene as he noticed her 
shrinking. ‘^Here we are at a ‘Gypsy’ fortune- 
teller’s. Let her confirm my statement.” 

The little “Gypsy” woman, seeing them halt 
near her tent, entreated them to get their fortunes 
told. Imogene consented. Marmion gave the 
Gypsy his quarter and Imogene extended her 
hand. 

‘‘Now, Marmion, do not be jealous,” Imogene 
mischievously whispered in his ear, “if she tells me 
the old story — ‘You have two lovers.’ ” 


130 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


The ‘‘Gypsy” at once began the reading: 

“You contemplate going on a journey next 
summer. You will cross the water.” 

“That, must be Maggie,” Imogene said to her 
lover. “See, she knows all our plans.” 

“You have two lovers,” the little “Gypsy” con- 
tinued. Imogene looked at Marmion and smiled: 
“One is false, the other is true; one is rich, the 
other is poor. You shall be a poor man’s wife.” 

The joke grated harshly on Imogene. 

“Release my hand, please,” she said sharply, 
and disdainfully withdrew. 

Happening to encounter Grace, who was one 
of the managers of the fair, she inquired of her, 
“Who is your ‘Gypsy’ fortune-teller.?” 

“Madam Denis,” Grace laughingly replied. 

“The name is Grecian.” 

“Yes; Madam married a Greek.” 

“On your honor, Grace, is that Maggie?” 

“On my honor, that is Madam Denis.” 

“She is a horrid old fibber. What do you guess 
she told me?” 

“The truth, most certainly,” Grace answered 
tauntingly. 

“You guess poorly. Time will prove her 

‘Falser than all fancy fathoms, 

Falser than all songs have sung.' 

She said I shall be a poor man’s wife. Fibber 
Denis has literally spoiled my evening. Her 
jest—” 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


131 


‘^Madam never jests,” Grace gravely protested, 
although she was aching with suppressed laugh- 
ter. Somehow she always found something amus- 
ing in Imogene when the poor excited her ire. 
Imogene saw at once that Grace mocked her. 

^‘Of course, you are not in sympathy with me. 
I forgot that you wrote that sickening opera, lit- 
tle traitor. If you live to see the filthy rabble 
ruling their rich superiors, you will regret the 
part you played in encouraging their ambitions.” 

Grace was amazed. 

^‘Imogene !” she exclaimed. ‘‘You are the most 
perplexing problem of the age. I am sure no one 
can solve you but God. You talk like a mean- 
hearted royalist in a despotic monarchy. Con- 
cerning your inference, however, I do not believe 
the poor have any desire to rule the rich. I 
heartily commend the poor who nobly endeavor to 
gain the status of rich people. I advocate the 
domination of no one class, but equality for all. 
If the poor were content with being less than equal 
I should hold that satisfaction up as a proof of 
their inferiority. I honor them because they are 
dissatisfied and demand that the ridge exalting 
the rich above them be leveled down. But, how- 
ever matters evolve, I purpose to go through life 
in full possession of my equanimity. Fuming is 
a corrosive disease that eats the heart and brain. 
Its effects are plain on your face to-night, dear. 
I offer you a physic that, if taken as directed, will 
effect a cure: 


13a 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


“ ‘Because you flourish in worldly affairs 
Don’t be haughty, and put on airs, 

With insolent pride of station! 

Don’t be proud and turn up your nose 
At poorer people in plainer clothes. 

But learn, for the sake of your mind’s repose. 

That wealth’s a bubble that comes — and goes! 
And that all proud flesh, wherever it grows 
Is subject to irritation.’ 

A single dose whenever you feel a symptom of 
pride will give immediate relief, and a double dose 
whenever the poor are in your presence will keep 
you amiable and in a healthy state.” 

All of Grace’s words were like oil added to fire. 
Marmion had withdrawn a little way to speak to 
a gentleman and did not witness Imogene’s mani- 
festation of intemperate temper. Her eyes flashed 
and her cheeks burned. 

‘^Defend them,” she said with keen contempt. 
‘‘I can picture you with your teamster-hus- 
band.” 

Grace smiled. 

“What dictionary gives ‘defense’ and ‘inter- 
marriage’ the same meaning.? Rest assured that 
I will defend the poor; as for marrying among 
them, I have made no resolutions pro or con. 
But I know there are many peasants as noble as 
kings, and whoever wins my heart may have my 
hand.” 

“There are others as foolish as you. The law 
should prohibit you, however, as you have not 


A LOOKING-GLASS 133 

sense or strength of character to keep yourself 
pure.” 

‘‘I know the poor are not bitterly opposed to 
amalgamation with the rich; I own that the rich 
are weak; therefore, the law you recommend would 
doubtless fail to prevent fusion. Maybe our dear 
old Illinois will never satisfy you with the enact- 
ment of such law. Such legislation is despotic,” 
she added with feeling. The thought of the law 
meddling with anything so private as a citizen’s 
social affairs aroused her indignation. ‘‘Honest 
men would not attempt to impose such tyranny 
on the people. I have sole right to choose whom 
I will receive in my drawing-room, with whom I 
dine and whom I marry.” 

A thought suddenly occurred to her; her eyes 
fairly danced with mischief. 

“Say,” she went on, “I thought Ellen Haley’s 
brother was very prepossessing. I was about to 
be madly love-smitten. I used to see him every 
day when he came to work at our house. He 
finally emigrated to West Virginia. But for that 
I might now be called by his name and, instead 
of writing operas, be noted for composing lulla- 
bies.” 

Horrified and amazed, Imogene swept away. 


CHAPTER XIX 


It was June. Imogene and her father were 
spending it at Caxton Crest. 

Caxton Crest was Imogene’s because her 
mother had willed it to her. She was of age and 
her fortune had been settled on her, but she ac- 
cepted control of Caxton Crest only. Over the 
residue she held but nominal right, preferring 
to still trust it to the management of her father 
as a proof, she said, of her implicit confidence in 
his love and wisdom. 

“Let us go to Caxton Crest,” she suggested 
when Summer made her debut and society began 
its exodus from the city. “Its sentiment — beau- 
tiful and holy, though pathetic — doubly endears 
it to me. The memoirs you wrote of its first mis- 
tress is the pearl of great price among my lit- 
erary treasures. 

“When we are at Caxton Crest I almost feel 
that I have two parents. Dear mamma’s spirit 
seems to brood over all space — every room, every 
foot of land, every inch of air. She never seems 
so near me at other places. Poor mamma ! I 
sometimes regret having been born, since by her 
death I am. 

“When I enter the room that was hers I feel 
like a pilgrim who has journeyed to a sacred 
shrine. I am always awed when I stand there 
134 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


135 


amid those furnishings that speak her taste in 
their quality and arrangement. Her books, her 
pictures — ^you have faithfully kept all just as on 
the day she went away. As I look up at her 
noble face it seems to be more than painted can- 
vas. Her eyes sparkle with animation; her smil- 
ing lips seem to breathe a benediction on me. 

‘Tor reasons very apparent, no other place in 
all the world is so dear to you and me as my 
country place. This is the last summer that we 
can have it all to ourselves.” 

He understood her and gladly consented to go 
where she chose. 

Her country place was an estate of twenty 
acres, situated about eight miles from the city. 
In the days of its first mistress, the late Mrs. 
Hillman, it was “away out in the country.” It 
was the highest site in the vicinity. Because of its 
altitude, Imogene’s mother christened it “Crest” 
and prefixed her maiden name, “Caxton,” in 
honor of her father, from whom she received the 
small estate as a bridal gift. 

Despite the fact that Progress had forced it 
into far greater proximity to the city, Caxton 
Crest still retained a positively rural air of in- 
viting elegance. The house was a pretty, modest 
cottage that bespoke ease more than grandeur. 
Its architecture was a confluence of colonial and 
modern. Ancient trees that had protected the 
Indians’ wigwams from the tempest and sun 
shielded it from winter’s blast and summer’s heat. 


136 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


A wide drive for vehicles and a pretty walk for 
pedestrians led up to the cottage. The lawn 
was picturesque with shrubbery, flowers and a 
beautiful fountain. In one section of the estate 
was a small lake with a few graceful willows grow- 
ing beside it, and some water-lilies resting on its 
tranquil bosom. 

Caxton Crest was a happy place. Imogene 
found it thrice happy that brief June. Love 
showed its smiling face in every form of nature 
and joy was in every nook. 

Marmion called daily unless the pressure of 
business denied him the privilege. He sorely la- 
mented such denials ; they were great misfortunes ; 
a day without Imogene’s smile was night. Imo- 
gene believed his flattering assertions. But Mar- 
mion contrived to make the night radiant with 
stars, for on such nights he recited the poetry of 
his love over the telephone. 

It was after listening to one of those delight- 
ful recitals that Imogene hung up the receiver one 
Thursday afternoon and sought her father. She 
glided softly, into his study, where she had seen 
him go shortly before. 

Mr. Hillman had his tastes, and the place where 
he so often sat alone, grappling with momentous 
questions and trying to discover some means by 
which to rid conditions of their snarls, was a 
combination of den and study. There were the 
quaint and curious treasures gathered in his 
childhood and an additional collection of things 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


137 


unique and antiquarian for which maturity had 
not lessened but whetted his appetite. There 
were shelves laden with books ; beautiful and rest- 
ful pictures adorned the walls ; two pedestals sup- 
ported the busts of his favorite heroes; there 
were classic vases which Imogene kept filled with 
flowers. 

Imogene tiptoed up behind her father and 
kissed his ears. He turned around with a gay 
laugh and said merrily, ^Well, pretty sylph, what 
now.? Another carte blanche for another shop- 
ping expedition before — ” 

‘‘Naughty papa!” she interrupted with ani- 
mation, pouting under pretense of being of- 
fended. “Do I never seek you except when I 
want some wish granted, some want supplied?” 

He set her upon his knee and kissed her until 
merry smiles superseded the playful pout. 

“Let me see,” he said. “On my honor, I an- 
swer you — no! But I am willing to admit that 
sometimes the wish is just to be with me; some- 
times your only want is my consent to hear you 
talk of Marmion.” 

“Oh, wise papa ! How very wise you are ! But 
which motive prompted me to come now? Tell 
me that or I will reverse the compliment.” 

“And call me fool, very fool, sweet Psyche? 
Would you call Marmion ‘fool’?” 

“I shall never call you that, my jealous par- 
ent,” she answered. “I said what I did not 

55 


mean. 


138 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


‘^You will not call me fool and yet you call me 
jealous? You draw out one dagger to thrust in 
another. You are cruel to me, but oh! how good 
at fencing. I have not touched you. Teach me 
to parry as excellently, darling.” 

*Tndeed, I have need to learn of you,” she de- 
clared. ‘^You wounded me here when you called 
me cruel.” 

She laid her hand over her heart. The gem in 
her ring caught the rays of the setting sun and 
vied with it in splendor. 

‘‘Let me heal the contusion,” Mr. Hillman play- 
fully entreated. “Talk to me of Marmion, be- 
cause for that reason you sought me. There! 
Is your pain lessened? Have I not kept intact 
your good opinion of me?” 

“You have,” she replied, smiling up into the 
jovial face lowered over her. “You are as wise 
as I am obedient. In obedience to your com- 
mand I shall at once begin to talk to you of 
Marmion. He will be here to-morrow. He is 
coming to spend the whole day with us.” 

“ ‘With us,’ which, being interpreted, means 
with you.” 

Imogene blushed, but made no contradiction. 
Still seated on her father’s knee, her arm thrown 
carelessly around him, she talked volubly of the 
romance the King Romancer had written in her 
heart. The subject was inexhaustible, since love 
is as endless as infinity. She talked until the 
shadows of evening descended and brooded 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


139 


drowsy Nature; then, with half her sweet, intoxi- 
cating story untold, she withdrew to the open 
window, and, lifting her happy eyes heavenward, 
watched in blissful meditation for the advent of 
the “deathless stars.” 


CHAPTER XX 


Imogene awoke early. A few lagging cour- 
tiers of the departed night were reluctantly veil- 
ing their pale faces in the gray skies. The dawn 
was tranquilly sublime, more adaptable to con- 
templation than repose; but Nature had not yet 
broken its slumber; even the winds seemed to be 
asleep. 

Imogene drew a stool to the window and sat 
down. She placed one elbow on a cushion upon 
the sill, and, leaning her cheek against her damask 
palm, looked up at the waning stars. Yielding 
to the influence of the hour^s sublimity, she sank 
into a reverie while the lambent watchers above, 
as if in full sympathy with the longing portrayed 
in the beautiful, restless face raised toward them, 
sped away and the flushed face of the morning 
peeped over the eastern hills. 

It was a very delightful reverie in which Imo- 
gene was absorbed. She was forecasting Mar- 
mion’s career that seemed as fair to her as a 
‘‘cloudless sky and tropical clime.” Marmion had 
entered the race for nomination for a municipal 
office to which many were aspiring. His friends 
were sure that he would be nominated and were 
equally confident of his triumph in the ensuing 
election. The prospects greatly pleased Imo- 
140 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


141 


gene. She surveyed Marmion’s gradient ascent 
with a smile of delight ; and her ambition, a thing 
with eagle-pinions, soared on higher and higher. 
No height had ever daunted that proud moun- 
tain bird and to her no height seemed inaccessible. 
She bounded upward faster and faster until Mar- 
mion was proclaimed president of the nation and 
herself the first lady of the land. Her ambitious 
spirit had won its last victory. She sighed. 

The loud note of the rooster came from the 
poultry yard. 

“Crow, chanticleer,” she cried, “and herald the 
coming day, for day brings Marmion to me.” 

She arose and dressed — for Marmion. The 
object demanded the greatest care, for Marmion 
was not of the number of those men who pay no 
attention to the little constituents, but all to the 
consummate creation. With him there was noth- 
ing bagatelle. Every little detail was noted, and 
if the effect displeased him he justly attributed 
the flaw to the specific defect from which it 
sprung, but never made a sweeping condemnation 
of the whole. 

Imogene chose an all-white costume from her 
wardrobe. Her slippers, too, were pure white. 
Some of the pink blossoms Marmion had sent her 
the previous day adorned her raven hair; some 
nestled over her heart that was espoused to the 
giver. 

“O Time, make haste!” she sighed, returning 
to the window. 


142 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


There were no more stars in the sky, but they 
glittered on the grass ; the air was filled with rosy 
beauty, for the sun had restored day to the 
yearning earth, and all nature was aglow with 
youthful loveliness. 

The birds were fluttering here and there and 
chirping a pretty prelude to their daily opera. 
Caxton Crest was a very popular resort with the 
feathered denizens of the air. The cultivation 
of their friendship was one of Imogene’s pretty 
traits that had its origin in her childhood. She 
fed them daily, nursed their sick and maimed, and 
gave ostentatious burial to their dead. In late 
years she had had a pavilion placed on the lawn 
and ordered the servants to keep it always sup- 
plied with grains and crumbs during the winter. 
It was a rare treat for the birds that did not 
seek a warmer climate in the cold season. Their 
benefactress was rewarded for her pains by all of 
their fraternity singing their sweetest songs at 
Caxton Crest in summer. 

‘^Sing, happy birds, for Marmion is coming,” 
Imogene cried as she looked from her window and 
saw those beneficiaries of her protecting care 
bathing themselves in the soft light. 

The gay, pretty things, as if heeding Imo- 
gene’s imperious voice, swelled their chorus into 
loud and rapturous strains. 

Imogene left her room and quickly descended 
the stairs. She was soon tripping toward the 
big iron gate that stood open to admit her guest. 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


143 


Her large Newfoundland bounded up to greet 
and follow her. But her glad smile and look of 
love were not for him. 

^‘Down, sir, and back!’’ she sternly commanded, 
stamping impatiently. 

The animal crouched back, evidently wounded 
by her severity. 

“Why, you dear thing, you will soil my clothes 
with your wet paws and make me look worse than 
an Abigail,” she remorsefully explained, secretly 
resolving to make amends for her harsh words 
and manner by feeding him sweet bread on her 
return. 

Imogene had respect for the feelings of her 
pets and was never known to mistreat dumb 
brutes. With human beings her record was not 
so clear. Her cold, supercilious airs made the 
servants uncomfortable and wounded the hearts 
of all the poor who came within the orbit of her 
life. But she never saw any cause for pity there 
and never made an effort to heal the wound. In 
fact, she was only partially, if at all, conscious 
of the wounds she made. She looked upon the 
poor less as human beings than as a sort of ma- 
chinery that Nature had manufactured not to 
think but to labor, to move in a world of progress 
but not to aspire, to be hammered but not to 
feel, to be crushed but not to bleed. She was en- 
tirely out of sympathy with even a theory that 
upheld the brotherhood of rich and poor. It 
was an argument of hers that as the law of health 


144 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


compelled the quarantining of all contagiously 
diseased persons, for reasons wise and apparent, 
even so should the rich keep the poor rigidly 
under a ban of ostracism, or society would be de- 
based. Therefore all her words to servants were 
commandatory ; all her looks bestowed on people 
of a lower rank than her own said, ‘^You are in- 
ferior to me.” She did not dare to take the lowly 
by the hand and bear them up lest she be dragged 
down; except she scorned and stood aloof from 
them she believed she would be defiled. So deli- 
cate was the foundation of her superiority! Yet 
she thought herself strong and bewailed the weak- 
ness of her democratic friends. 

Nevertheless, Imogene’s manner among those 
of her caste was such that she was ‘‘charming” 
and “amiable.” She was equally loved by her 
pets, especially her Newfoundland, whose dejected 
spirits, when she rebuked him without cause, so 
he seemed to think, sent a pang of remorse to her 
heart. 

“Go to your kennel, Mr. Cleveland,” she said 
kindly as the hand on which the diamond sparkled 
patted his head softly. “You shall have a huge 
piece of roasted beef.” 

She returned and gave him the promised morsel, 
for which he had a strong relish. 

“There, sir! Stay here. Understand.? You 
must obey.” 

Having appealed to Cleveland’s sense of duty 
through his sense of gastronomy, she marked him 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


145 


as an exceptionally well-disciplined dog and has- 
tened away to the open gate. As she stood near 
one of the great posts that was almost hidden by 
clusters of roses she looked like the personification 
of Summer, — soft and winning like the balmy air, 
with a countenance as radiant as the morning. 
She stood waiting and listening for Marmion — 
Marmion, who, on a fair summer night, had whis- 
pered in her hearing an incantation that made the 
old heavens and the old earth pass away and cre- 
ated all things new. Soon she heard the sound 
of a galloping horse’s feet; soon the steed and 
his rider were before her; Marmion had come. 


CHAPTER XXI 


The groom led Marmion’s horse to the stable 
while the two lovers went on together along the 
shady walk. 

Never did handsome cavalier and lovely maiden 
form a prettier picture than that happy pair — 
Marmion, stalwart and commanding, in boots and 
spurs, taller than she by quite a head, and she in 
dainty, milky white, with her face timidly half- 
turned from his searching eyes. 

The obedient Cleveland was still engaged in 
consuming his ante-breakfast treat when his young 
mistress reappeared. He greedily ate the re- 
mainder and ran from his kennel to Imogene. He 
was wagging his tail in excellent spirits, which 
seemed to be raised higher by Imogene^s flattering 
comment: “You obeyed me precisely. I knew 
you were a dog of beautiful behavior.” 

Cleveland, in substantiation of her recommen- 
dation, walked decorously behind her. 

“How is ‘papa’ this fine morning.?” Marmion 
inquired as he calculated in dollars and prestige 
the future interest on the present courtesy he 
showed his rich and influential prospective father- 
in-law. 

“Papa has not risen yet, I think,” Imogene re- 
plied, “but he is not on the sick list. He was up 
146 


A LOOKING-GLASS 147 

very late last night, so his valet told me. I am 
sure he was in bed when I came down.” 

“For everything there is a season,” Marmion 
said, “and unless sleep comes to me in her own I 
will not tolerate her.” 

“I, too, should prefer retiring at night and ris- 
ing early in the morning with a mind and body 
refreshed and invigorated for the resumption of 
my tasks, but papa chooses to do differently some- 
times.” 

Imogene sat down by the tuneful fountain and 
extended to Marmion a tacit invitation to do the 
same. 

“Why, you forget that Mr. Hillman is now a 
man of leisure, again a private citizen. You talk 
as if his life were still infested with the cares of 
state. What tasks has he.?^” 

“Yes, I forgot, but something is weighing on 
him. I have feared for his health, but he says it 
is perfect. Nevertheless, I have noticed with some 
alarm that in the last two or three days his com- 
plexion has been paler and his countenance duller 
than they have been before.” 

“A mere fancy, sweet girl.” 

“I hope it is all fancy. He admits, however, 
that he. needs rest. I suppose it was because of 
such need that he would not let the people return 
him to the Legislature. He also, as you know, 
has no intention of resuming his practice. I know 
not why he was up late last night, but I know 
this: Morpheus is one of Nature’s custom col- 


148 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


lectors to whom none of us can eternally defer 
payment. What one withholds by night one is 
forced to pay by day.” 

‘‘But this morning is too lovely for settling such 
accounts,” Marmion declared. 

Furthermore, Marmion’s personal experience 
was a flagrant confutation of Imogene’s theory. 
Through the study of books, solitary intriguing 
and social festivity, Marmion had frequently de- 
prived the old god of his dues, and never had a 
moment of his days been confiscated. He could 
not bear to nap when the rest of the world was 
striving and toiling. Sleep was a very great 
hindrance. He held that the necessity for it 
was man’s greatest curse, and the curse grew 
as the ages multiplied. People of his genera- 
tion with so many centuries of literature, his- 
tory and science before them, would, by sleeping 
a third of their time, but scarcely open their eyes 
to the light, even if allotted threescore years and 
ten, when they would have to close them forever 
— denied all further thought and action and 
speech. The unborn millions would have the 
knowledge and achievements of his age combined 
with that of former epochs to assimilate with the 
discovered wonders of their own era. How little 
could they accomplish in the brief span of life! 
For the longevity of mankind was only a term of 
mockery. Time niggardly dealt out seventy 
years to a very few and cut the multitude off in 
their prime, just when they were awakening to 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


149 


consciousness of the magnitude of their being and 
the world. How much faster civilization would 
move onward if man had no need of relaxation. 
Nature seriously blundered in making sleep essen- 
tial instead of excrescent in keeping man’s mind 
and body sound. 

Imogene laughed and called him ^^Raffael.” 

‘^You think your conception of human beings 
is an improvement on God’s plan, being ‘not as Na- 
ture makes them but as she would make them’ — 
‘a mere fancy,’ dear boy.” 

He smiled at her quotation but at the same time 
attempted to prove that his idea was not mere 
fancy. 

“Hush!” she said. “You shall not defend any- 
thing so irrational.” 

“And you shall not with impunity infer that I 
am an idiot. This is the propitiation I demand.” 
He kissed her hand. 

“Now say you are conciliated,” she commanded 
in her charmingly imperious manner. 

“To say it or to not say it, — that is the ques- 
tion. Whether it is nobler to ally with the head 
and deny my soul its desire by adhering to the 
cult that has made me ever ready to obey your 
slightest wish, or to league with the heart and 
continue to affect displeasure that I may again 
win the premium you allowed me to put on my 
indignation. Ah ! the atonement was so sweet, my 
beloved offender.” 

Imogene leaned forward and dipped her slim 


150 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


hand in the fountain. She quite forgot that the 
crystal water showed Marmion the blushing face 
she was trying to hide. 

‘‘Your father has risen now, but is still in his 
dressing-robe,” Marmion presently said. “He 
espied us from his window and saluted me. His 
face was the brightest that Nature can give to an 
image of health.” 

“The sweet atonement did not appease your 
wrath, eh.f* You retaliate by inferring that I am 
imbecile. Atone by leaving me. Go to papa. 
He will cordially receive you. No man scorns 
conventionality more than he in dealing with 
friends. I am going to gather fresh flowers for 
his vases. I expect both of you to be dressed for 
breakfast when I return.” 

They parted. Imogene went to cut her fath- 
er’s favorite flowers ; Marmion went directly to 
Mr. Hillman’s apartments. 

Marmion was heartily welcomed by the master 
of Caxton Crest. After the salutatory remarks 
were passed and the initiatory steps to conversa- 
tion taken he glided into a political discourse 
with his prospective father-in-law, whose hobby 
had been politics. Both gentlemen were of the 
same party and their opinions were parallel, or 
nearly so, in most matters. They talked without 
reserve of men and parties and things. 

Marmion expressed regret that Mr. Hillman 
had retired from public life. Mr. Hillman seemed 
to read the thoughts still unexpressed. 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


151 


retirement, Franklin, will not disadvan- 
tage any in whose career I may be interested,” he 
said, as if casually, instead of with a design, to 
hush the discontent he observed in the younger 
man. ‘^The matchless Julius was Great Caesar 
while he lived, and after death was ‘mighty yet.’ 
I shall retain my strength until, imitating Elijah’s 
charity, I drop my mantle on my son-in-law, who 
will inherit everything else I have.” 

At that moment Imogene entered with her bur- 
den of flowers. 

“Even my pretty Flora,” Mr. Hillman supple- 
mented — “herself the fairest blossom of them all.” 

At the first mention of the son-in-law’s inherit- 
ance that could not possibly include more than 
prestige, money, houses and land, Marmion was 
stoical; but when reference was made to Imogene 
his ear was all attention and his countenance 
showed that her name had created an ecstasy in 
his heart. 

Mr. Hillman had scrutinized that countenance 
all the while and was pleased with the superficial 
findings. Marmion had expected such an exami- 
nation and was prepared for the test. Marmion 
was never off his guard and always wore a mask. 

When Imogene had placed her flowers she 
turned to the gentlemen and announced breakfast. 

“Come!” she said, holding out a hand to each. 

“And take the wings of the morning,” Mr. Hill- 
man added. “Well, beautiful Aurora, I am here.” 

He arose and kissed the hand he took within 


152 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


his own. Imogene led the way to the dainty re- 
past she called a ‘‘veranda breakfast.” 

She had had the table placed on the porch, 
where vines artistically garlanded the pillars; a 
tropical beauty was effected by the decorative 
placing of palms and ferns; the sweet breath of 
flowers made the air delicious, and her canaries 
were singing joyously as if they flitted in their 
native island bowers and the soft winds from Af- 
rica swept over them. 

Marmion quickly took in detail and effect. He 
was delighted and expressed himself freely and 
flatteringly. He called the cozy corner “Palace 
Beautiful.” 

“Not that,” Imogene objected. “You remem- 
ber Pilgrim was in Palace Beautiful just before 
he went down into the Valley of Humiliation.” 

Marmion marveled at the disquiet his words had 
awakened in her. He had never before known her 
high spirits to yield to the ignorance of supersti- 
tion. He made no comment, but afterward es- 
chewed all reference to the castle that Imogene 
thought made an ominous simile. 

Breakfast over, Mr. Hillman withdrew to his 
study. He met the lovers again at lunch and 
once more at dinner, when the day was declining.* 

It had been a novel day for Imogene. When 
she indited its record in her diary she made the 
pages elaborate with beautifully penciled illustra- 
tions: Marmion at the piano, playing and sing- 
ing sweetly sentimental airs; the stroll, arm-in- 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


153 


arm, over the lawn; the trip on the lake, and the 
stay at the gate when Marmion strove to recon- 
cile her to his absence. 

Marmion must go West to look after his inter- 
ests in an estate, he having been made the prin- 
cipal legatee in the will of the testator. Some 
litigation had arisen at the demand of avaricious 
heirs. The will of the dead was too sacred a 
thing, so Marmion said, to be broken; but the 
less favored heirs were unprincipled. Greed 
usurped the finer qualities of some natures as a 
sponge sucked up water. His conscience, how- 
ever, urged it upon him as his duty as a tribute 
of respect to the departed to see to it that the 
will remained inviolate. He would be gone only 
two weeks. 

“Only two weeks,” Imogene sighed. “That 
sounds like an interminable time.” 

“But fourteen days are definite things, dear. 
You shall daily receive a letter from me.” 

“And I shall watch for the coming of those 
letters by day as I do for the coming of the stars 
by night.” 

He did not know the sentiment from which the 
last half of her sentence sprung, but he answered 
ardently, “And, as surely as those celestial bodies 
keep their covenant with night, I will keep my 
covenant with you.” 

“I wish there were no partings,” she sighed 
mournfully. “That is the sum of heaven, — loved 
ones never part.” 


154 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


“There shall be no parting for us henceforth 
when I return.” 

Simultaneously with his utterance of the last 
phrase, a cloud poised between the earth and the 
sun. The fair landscape was darkened. Mar- 
mion was unaffected by it, but Imogene trembled. 

“Darling, you are not well,” he said anxiously. 
“Do seek advice. Perhaps I must not leave you. 
One’s duty to the dead should not make one un- 
mindful of one’s duty to the living.” 

“I am well — quite well,” she assured him, 
bravely smiling. “Maybe I am wearied through 
standing. Have we stood long.?” 

“Sit down. I cannot tell, for I am positively 
opposite to the motto that used to adorn sun- 
dials ; I number not the hours, unless cloudy.” 

“Then you should know,” she answered with 
forced gayety. “Did you not notice that when 
you spoke of your return” — her voice fell and 
quivered in spite of her effort to keep it up and 
steady — “a cloud hid the sun.?” 

“Not my sun, darling. My sun is still shin- 
ing.” He was gazing passionately upon her. 

“You would make me incredulous, but I believe 
such singular occurrences are portentous.” 

“What is singular in a cloud and a setting 
sun?” 

He laughed merrily. His temerity chased 
away her fears and drove back the tears that 
suffused her eyes. 

“Be of good cheer,” he continued. “Do not 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


155 


grow dull and tearful, though the sky is overcast 
and the heavens threaten earth with rain. Noth- 
ing ordinary or phenomenal in Nature presages 
evil to us. Your dejection is not presentiment. 
It is only the premature effect of our separation. 
Dispel your melancholy. Think happy thoughts ; 
sing sweet love-ballads; read bright, entertaining 
books ; bring all the poetry of your soul into ac- 
tion and contemplate our reunion. Time will fly 
more swiftly than a weaver’s shuttle.” 

He finally convinced her that no evil awaited 
them and the time of their separation was not 
long. 

‘^Ah, now, my love, how bright you look ! How 
excellently smiles become you !” he commented. 

Involuntarily she glanced down on the stones at 
their feet. 

‘‘Look at me, Imogene,” he entreated. “Mem- 
ory has vignetted for me every scene of this 
blissful day. Let me have now your picture at 
our parting. It will speak to me of you when I 
am far out in the arid West. It will feast my 
famished spirit and soothe my longing soul until 
I come again and take the vestal idol of my heart 
to be the goddess Vesta of my home.” 

She looked, and she looked her best. Proud 
and beautiful she stood before him, a woman to in- 
spire awe if not love; but her dark face was in- 
undated by a flood of the rich passion. The 
light in her starry eyes was the light of love ; the 
smile on her perfect lips was designed by love; 


156 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


the music of her voice swam up from a heart 
whose every chord was swept by love. 

‘‘Good-by, Marmion.” 

“Good-by, Imogene.” 

One fond embrace, one long sweet kiss, and Imo- 
gene once more stood alone by the post almost cov- 
ered with roses. 


CHAPTER XXII 


Imogene stood and watched her departing lover 
as he rode away. He often looked back and 
kissed his hand to her. She watched until his 
receding form faded into the gloom of the un- 
timely night. Still she stood, listening to the 
clatter of his horse’s ironclad hoofs until he was 
so far away that no sound was borne to her 
strained ears. And yet she stood there with her 
eyes turned toward the murky distance where 
Marmion had vanished — stood until the falling 
rain compelled her to go indoors. 

The lightning flashed; the thunder roared; the 
rain came down apace; but Marmion laughed at 
the storm and rode fearlessly on. He had 
bravely gone through storms more terrific. 
When the despotism that tyrannical Spain im- 
posed on a million of her subjects so aroused the 
indignation of the liberty-loving American peo- 
ple that their hatred of oppression forced them 
to war against Spain in defense of human rights, 
Marmion fought for his country’s flag that he 
had been taught to honor while he was yet a boy 
in the South, his native section. In that war he 
had heard the thunder and seen the fire of many 
cannons while lead rained pitilessly from the 
enemy’s guns. So, falling drops of water and 
157 


158 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


thunder and lightning aimed not at him could 
not molest him. He was at ease, except for the 
haunting consciousness that he did not love Imo- 
gene. 

Marmion owned to himself that he did not love 
the girl he had left only a short time since. Like 
a terrible specter his guilt stood before him in 
every inch of every mile he had ridden from Cax- 
ton Crest. Banquo’s ghost never harassed the 
wicked Macbeth more. As he rode along, think- 
ing of Imogene’s picture when he left her. Re- 
morse swooped upon him like a bird of prey and 
for a moment tore his sinful heart. 

‘‘Oh, why does she let the passion so absorb 
her!” he complained. “I wonder if I could not 
love her more if she loved me less. She worships 
me but I would fly her worship if — ah, there is 
the chain that enslaves me — if that were not to 
fly her fortune also.” 

Marmion’s avarice again had conquered in the 
strife with his conscience. His mood grew merry. 
Tapping his horse with his whip he bade him 
“Get on!” The horse pricked up its ears and 
trotted a little awry. 

“Hugo! What now.?^ You shy as if the 
bizarre antics of Balaam’s ass were a property to 
which you unfortunately fell heir. Ah, there is 
an angel in the path. I will not smite you but 
wrestle with it, if necessary, more dexterously 
than Jacob and pass on unmaimed.” 

Marmion saw that a woman was trying to ex- 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


159 


trlcate her skirts from some broken barbed-wire 
fencing that was lying on the ground. Before 
he had passed he recognized, to his astonishment, 
’Nita Henson. 

‘^What!” he exclaimed, ‘‘you here on a night 
so inclement — in a region so open to villains. I 
fear our suburbs lack adequate police protec- 
tion.” 

“I am not afraid,” ’Nita answered. “It is not 
late yet although the rain and clouds make it 
appear so. I have been to Widow Green’s. 
Aunt often has something useful to send her, 
and besides, just a visit cheers her. 

“As I came on toward home I saw you across 
the lot and ran to intercept you. The earth 
there is slippery and I fell. Did you not see me 
fall.?^ I was quickly on my feet again, but it 
required some time to free my skirts from the 
barbs on which they were caught.” 

Marmion had been so preoccupied that he had 
seen nothing but the pictures in his mind. 

“I appreciate this opportunity,” ’Nita con- 
tinued, “for I have long wanted to see you.” 

Marmion wondered what she wanted. He 
tried to scrutinize her face. The dim little sub- 
urban lights aided him to see that it was pale, 
and her soft brown eyes were full of sadness, but 
he could not read her meaning. 

“I had forgotten that you now reside in the 
suburbs,” he said. “But, for your health’s sake 
I insist on your hastening home.” 


160 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


‘‘Oh, fear not. It is not raining now; the sky 
is clearing; and the thick foliage of the trees has 
kept this place moderately dry. 

“Let me talk now of a matter that lies heavy 
on my heart,” she added in a low tone. 

She drew quite close to him and laid her hand 
on Hugo’s rein. Marmion leaned forward to 
listen while she spoke. They formed a rather 
misleading group. Had they been seen by those 
disposed to meddle and make scandal Imogene 
would have become an object of tenderest pity 
and ’Nita’s spotless reputation would have re- 
ceived a stain. But ’Nita’s zeal for Imogene’s 
good kept such thought from her mind. Her 
meeting with Marmion was virtually incidental, 
the interview for which she detained him was es- 
sential as a conduit to the end she desired. She 
could not feel that she did wrong. An unselfish 
motive and perfect purity justify many an im- 
propriety. 

As Marmion looked steadfastly down into 
’Nita’s sweet countenance he thought the figure 
that had occurred to him in a flight of humor was 
more real than otherwise. ’Nita looked like an 
angel. 

“I have been anxious to speak with you,” she 
continued, “before — ^before — ” 

“My marriage,” said Marmion, endeavoring to 
perform the task for which she seemed so un- 
equal. But ’Nita rejected the end he supplied 
for her sentence. 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


161 


‘‘No; for I believe I need not hasten to speak 
with you before your marriage, since marriage 
is a holy tie that exists only where there is mu- 
tual love. I must speak before you perpetrate 
a crime for which nothing can atone.” 

“You perplex me, Miss Henson. Please be 
more explicit and unloose the Gordian knot that 
your enigmatical language has tied. Alexander 
had an abler ally in his sword than I have in my 
perception.” 

“Of course, I cannot believe that you fail to 
understand me, but I am willing to speak clearly. 
You know that if the nuptials for which society 
is now making great preparations are celebrated 
you will only play your part, — give your hand 
and withhold your heart. You have long simu- 
lated a passion that you do not feel. You know 
you do not love Miss Hillman.” 

Her look was a penetrating one from which 
Marmion wished to turn away, but its magnetism 
made that impossible. He wished that the dark- 
ness would conceal him but the lamplight, shining 
directly upon him, had the power of an X-ray. 
’Nita saw straight through his open smile to the 
villainy that influenced his mind. The firmness 
with which ’Nita lodged her charge proved 
the uselessness of denying it; and as he sat 
there, deeming himself the chief of sinners in 
her opinion, he was thinking a thousand 
thoughts. 

How had ’Nita discovered his inner self Was 


162 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


it Love that had revealed him? For her sake he 
hoped it was not, but felt flattered by the sus- 
picion that it was. Of all the women whose af- 
fections he had slyly tried while cunningly ex- 
amining their bank accounts, ’Nita was, he 
thought, the most lovable. She had infused into 
his heart its tenderest feeling, but there was in 
her habitually calm, grand dignity a mystery that 
he had never solved. 

Was that mystery a veil with which she cov- 
ered the truth that womanly delicacy and pride 
had in all ages refused to disclose except in re- 
turn for another’s open declaration? Could 
life’s master passion burn within her heart and 
she, by force of will, keep it concealed? No! 
Love was stronger than all modesty and decorum. 
No power of ethics could beat down love. Love 
broke over every barrier and gave some evidence 
of its existence though the proof might, indeed, 
be faint and tiny. ’Nita had given him no proof. 
Therefore, he was certain that she had never 
loved him. But, perhaps, he could have taught 
her if he had been so resolved. Oh, that her for- 
tune had been found commensurate with her phys- 
ical and mental charms ! He might then be kiss- 
ing the beautiful, spirituelle face that he dared 
not touch. 

His thought suddenly reverted to Imogene. 

‘T cannot retract,” he said. 

Marmion’s words were intended for himself 
alone, but ’Nita heard and answered. 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


163 


‘‘If you will repent you can retract. It is 
June yet. It will not be too late until the twelfth 
of July closes its seals. Oh,, do not let the 
Franklin-Hillman wedding be recorded there. 
Marry poor Imogene and you murder her. See 
how wholly she gives her young life to you. The 
day that she discovers your deceit will be worse 
than the day of death. 

He was affected by the pathos in her tone and 
the yearning in her angelic countenance. The 
harp whose chords his avarice had broken was 
momentarily strung again. Why had he not 
been brave enough to woo and wed the only girl 
who had ever touched his heart.? What could 
it matter to a manly man that her competence 
was drawn from the munificence of a charitable 
uncle and no wealth would descend to her before 
the death of that kinsman whose stock in good 
health promised long life.? Was he not rich 
enough to handsomely maintain even more than 
two.? If not, would not Love supply the deficit.? 
And was not happiness, after all, better than 
magnificence.? 

If he had only reasoned as clearly some months 
ago all might have been well. But his wedding 
day was now just eighteen days off and Imogene 
was proud and exacting. To go back was far 
more difficult than to go on. He looked at ’Nita’s 
sweet face and sighed. 

’Nita thought he was wavering. She felt 
hopeful. 


164 ^ 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


‘‘You will not marry her,” she said. “Only 
promise me that you will annul your engage- 
ment and you shall always have my gratitude.” 

“Such a promise would be broken,” he an- 
swered solemnly. “Honor compels me to marry 
Imogene.” 

“You have no honor if you marry her.” 

A feeling of resentment and anger kindled in 
his breast. But he quickly remembered that his 
censor was a woman. He softened. Such defer- 
ence to that sex was a chivalric trait that no 
circumstance had ever succeeded in exiling from 
his nature. 

“Miss Henson,” he began, in the same musical 
tones that had penetrated to her heart years be- 
fore, “if a man’s charge calumniated me as yours 
does, he should pay for it with a dear 
penalty. I demand no penalty from you 
— you go acquitted for, as you are a woman, I 
can appeal from the harsh judgment of your 
mind to the magnanimity of your soul.” 

“My soul has judged you and by that judg- 
me^it you are condemned. You are heartless, for 
you are aware that when Imogene knows that you 
are false she will wish herself dead.” 

“She shall never know,” he declared with ear- 
nestness that shook his frame. “My deceit shall 
operate on her heart and brain after marriage 
as before. She thinks I love her and is happy. 
It is all in one’s state of mind. I will study 
every word, every deed, so that she shall for- 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


165 


ever think I love her and forever be happy.” 

^‘You are not the first man, by many, lured on 
to your type of crime by just such sophistry. 
The wreck of other homes and fond wives’ happi- 
ness should be a salutary lesson to you and make 
you turn back. You are histrionic, but marriage 
will put you behind the scenes, your actor’s cos- 
tume will be removed despite your effort to keep 
it on.” 

Marmion laughed at her sage argument. 

“Your fears are unreasonable. Years hence 
the domestic bliss of ^Mr. and Mrs. Franklin’ 
will have given unquestionable confutation to 
your prophecies.” 

“I pity you. I pity unsuspecting Imogene 
even more. The sun is shining gloriously now 
but a storm is sure. There is a cloud, thick and 
terrible, that will precipitate night.” 

“All the day of my life shall be bright while 
Imogene smiles on me. It can be darkened by 
her frown only.” 

“Because on the fluctuations of her humor your 
prospects for increased riches rise or fall,” ’Nita 
calmly explained. “I know you as you know 
yourself. I long ago discovered that a woman’s 
wealth decides the degree of your love as a ther- 
mometer measures the degrees of temperature. 
Imogene is blind.” 

Her calmness was more difficult to brook than 
anger. Her words acutely stung Marmion’s 
pride. He saw the surest vengeance in torturing 


166 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


her with frankness and proceeded instantly to 
satisfy his wrath. 

‘‘Totally blind,” he affirmed, “or she would 
know that if she lacked wealth and prestige, I 
should assiduously avoid her. The course I pur- 
sue is the only one that the philosophy of the 
twentieth century ferrets out for me. The world 
is a Monte Carlo ; courtship and marriage are 
our cards. What you call love is fanaticism. 
As you conceive of it. Love may sometimes find 
a place among the wretchedly poor as an ano- 
dyne to allay the sufferings with which 
poverty afflicts them. But the struggling 
middle classes and ambitious rich go for 
splendid matches. Commonsense makes them 
dutiful and respectful although their hearts are 
more of a grain market than a rose garden. 
Say what you will, it is known the world over 
that ‘Cupid’ is only a shorter term for ‘cu- 
pidity.’ ” 

Marmion’s cold and heartless tone horrified his 
confessor. He saw that his words had wounded 
her sad heart whereas hers had only vexed his 
proud mind. The odds, however, did not satisfy 
him; his vindictive spirit called for more. 

“I have told you all,” he continued, “but if 
it were repeated to Imogene, though by a seraph’s 
tongue, she would not believe. Tell her and she 
will hate you for your pains.” 

’Nit a knew only too well that Marmion’s 
prophecy had already been fulfilled. She had 


A LOOKING-GLASS 167 

dared to hint that he was false and Imogene had 
ceased to call her ‘‘friend.” 

’Nita realized that entreaty and remonstration 
were vain. Marmion was set in his course. She 
turned away with tearful eyes. 

“You have ignored my plea, but the case shall 
not be closed here,” she said with quivering lips. 
“I appeal to Heaven.” 

Marmion thought that no sinner from whom 
God recalls his Spirit ever felt worse than he 
when that pure woman left him. He sat motion- 
less and watched her until she passed out of sight. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


“To heaven! Let her appeal there. I fear 
not. I have only followed a wise man’s counsel 
by emulating the example of the ant that ‘gath- 
ereth her food in the harvest.’ Who knows what 
the winter will be? Though my fortune is an 
enviable one I might make poor investments and 
lose it all. As ill luck has befallen others, I 
might become maimed, Imogene might become an 
invalid. How could we live without her immense 
wealth to draw from. Perhaps the purblind 
moralist who censures me now would commend 
me then. I have only endeavored to be provident 
in choosing my bride. Surely Prudence will 
plead my cause in the court of God and angels.” 

So musing, Marmion walked to and fro in his 
room. The remembrance of Imogene’s morbid 
humor when the day was dying threw over him a 
peculiar apprehension that was augmented by 
’Nita’s resolution to “appeal to Heaven.” Why 
had he been so unfortunate as to meet ’Nita that 
night? If he had only known her mission he 
would have dashed by her like a sprite. 

The city clock in the distance pierced the quiet 
air and tolled forth eleven long, clamorous 
strokes. Marmion paused by his window and 
looked up as if asking a sign from the Heaven 
that would try his case. The smiling firmament 
168 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


169 


looked benignly down on him. It never occurred 
to him that the wicked shall seek for a sign but 
no sign shall be given them. The gloom that 
veiled his spirit was rent. 

^^Ah,” he sighed happily, ‘^all is calm and 
bright. Glad omen ! The heavens do not equivo- 
cate like Macbeth’s witches. I go forth to the 
future exultant and sanguine.” 

He closed the window. A few minutes later 
he was hurrying on to meet the train that would 
bear him West. 

In that same night a humble suppliant with 
wet cheeks and on bended knees presented to 
Heaven her petition for an annulment of the 
Franklin-Hillman engagement. Imogene, for 
whose sake that fervent plea ascended, was re- 
freshing her spirit in gentle slumber from which 
she awoke the next morning and said to herself, 
^^Thirteen days after this and he shall be with- 
rae again.” 

So Imogene measured the time: “Twelve days 
after this” and “Eleven days after this,” and on 
until she said “Five days after this and he shall 
be with me again.” 

That ninth day of Marmion’s absence closed 
on a somewhat unhappy Imogene. She had neg- 
lected to keep “all the poetry of her soul” in ac- 
tion. 

In a dreamy, languid state she sat on the ve- 
randa, obedient Cleveland beside her, and watched 
the opalescent tints in the western sky as they 


170 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


floated away and dissolved into the golden hues 
of twilight, the aftermath of a glorious day. 

‘‘Her love was as volatile as those clouds 
which were, but are not,” she sighed mournfully; 
“and yet, the memory of it sheds around me a 
light as calm and serenely beautiful as this.” 

Imogene had loved ’Nita with all the tender- 
ness and passion of which her proud nature was 
capable. From childhood to maturity she and 
’Nita had been more as devoted sisters than as 
mere friends. Imogene’s reminiscence of those 
associations was sweet because they had been full 
of love ; and, yet, it was bitter because they were, 
she said, “hopelessly dead.” 

“Like the worm that lurks at the heart of the 
luscious fruit, her envy has eaten out the very 
core of our affection.” 

She suddenly paused. The majestic mournful- 
ness that had rested on her lovely features 
changed to something like contempt. 

“I will not,” she resumed, “lament a love as 
ephemeral as the images we traced in the sands 
at the seashore. I acted wisely in banishing 
her from my circle of friends. Out she shall re- 
main. I will not suffer the serpent to sting me 
twice.” 

She proudly arose, but the touch of a serv- 
ant’s hand detained her at the spot. 

The servant was Mrs. Vivien, a woman with an 
intelligent and kind, motherly face. She had 
regretfully noticed that Imogene was dejected. 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


171 


In her opinion, a woman but nine days from her 
wedding-day should be the embodiment of joy. 
She did not believe that Marmion’s absence was 
responsible for Imogene^s depression. It had 
long been her . secret fear that Marmion was un- 
true; she suspected that Imogene had begun to 
doubt him too. She decided to go to the girl 
and win her confidence. Nothing she might learn 
would be gossiped among the other servants ; for 
Mrs. Vivien was ladylike. She never endeavored 
to know another’s woes and perplexities except 
for that other’s welfare. It was in that spirit 
that she went to Imogene. 

As she should have expected, Imogene was 
cold and taciturn. After much patient trying 
Mrs. Vivien succeeded in changing the atmosphere ; 
Imogene talked more freely. The maid’s strong 
desire for the mistress’s future happiness caused 
her to hint vaguely — very vaguely, her suspicion 
that Marmion was insincere. Although she had 
the solicitude of a mother, Imogene did not for- 
get that she was only a servant. Imogene 
peremptorily closed the conversation and ordered 
Mrs. Vivien out of her presence. 

Mrs. Vivien walked sadly away, hoping the 
best but fearing the worst for the woman she 
loved though she received no love in return. 
How she could love Imogene was a great mystery 
to her fellow-servants. That love was an evi- 
dence of God’s mercy shown unto the third gen- 
eration of those who loved Him. 


172 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


Many years before, when Mrs. Vivien was a 
young orphan of fair education and no means 
she married a poor student who forsook his books 
to labor for her. They were happy for a while, 
but after twelve months Death visited their little 
Eden and bore Mr. Vivien away. 

The young widow and mother sought a posi- 
tion in a family that did not object to an infant. 
Many housewives rejected her on the plea that it 
would poison the moral atmosphere of their 
homes if they should grant admittance to a per- 
son of such foul reputation, — a husbandless 
mother with nothing to attest to a licit love, not 
even a wedding ring. 

Mrs. Vivien told them all in a straightforward 
manner that her certificate had, unfortunately 
been burned. She had written to the magistrate 
in the town where she and young Vivien secured 
their license and begged for a certification of 
her marriage. The officials were so discourteous 
that they gave her letters no attention. 

The squeamish housewives listened to her ex- 
planation, but looked at her askance and said, 
‘^A trumped up story.” 

But Mrs. Caxton’s creed was : Lifting is bet- 
ter than crushing. She opened her doors to the 
dubitable widow and innocent infant. A few 
years later Mrs. Vivien’s tale was verified. 

An old gentleman who had officiated for the 
Vivien couple visited Mrs. Caxton. It had been 
his lot to so serve young Vivien and his bride 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


173 


because it was their wish to be married by a min- 
ister of their denomination and he was the only 
available one. He was not a resident of the 
village but was simply stopping there for a short 
while; and when Mrs. Vivien found herself in»a 
terrible dilemma, because of a missing paper, she 
had forgotten his name and his home. But he 
remembered her ; knew her and called her by name 
when he met her in Mrs. Caxton’s house. He 
gave the proof for which she had prayed Heaven. 
When she thought of the little grave where her 
infant son lay she was heartily thankful that 
none could longer gainsay the inscription, “Joe 
Vivien,” on the slab set there. 

In the meantime Mrs. Caxton had become the 
mother of a girl whom the childless mother gladly 
took in charge. That did not fill the void made 
by Joe’s death, but it bound up the broken heart. 

Mrs. Vivien named her benefactress’s daughter, 
dressed her for her bridal, shrouded her for her 
grave. 

In subsequent years when Mrs. Caxton real- 
ized that she must go from time she implored Mrs. 
Vivien — her servant, protegee and friend — to love 
Imogene like a mother. Mrs. Vivien promised, 
and Imogene’s ingratitude and scorn had never 
been suflScient to make her violate that pledge. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


The butler chanced to witness Mrs. Vivien’s 
rebuff. Being a very talkative fellow, he made 
it a point to inform the cook of the whole matter. 
The cook was not reserved in speech and freely 
gave her opinion that Imogene was ‘‘just Satan.” 

“Who’d she get her hateful ways from any- 
how.?^” 

“Nobody. Folks can’t inherit hate. It is nat- 
ural for human beings to love. Little children 
love everybody rich or poor, black or white. If 
children could hate, Christ would have said. Ex- 
cept ye become as loving children. But He made 
no such distinction and left the example as broad 
as the universe, — heathen children or Christian 
children, rich children or poor children, Cauca- 
sian children or Negro children, Indian, Mon- 
golian or Malay. ‘Except ye become as little 
children, ye cannot enter into the kingdom of 
heaven.’ ” 

“I’ve often wondered who she took after, for 
her father is so nice; Mrs. Vivien says her mother 
was one of the truest ladies that ever walked the 
earth ; and her grandmother who died some twelve 
or fourteen years ago was the other one.” 

“You see,” said the butler, “Miss Imogene’s 
head is crammed with tales of old aristocracies 
when only the nobles were people and all the peas- 
174 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


175 


ants were dogs. Mr. Hillman has tried hard to 
straighten her out, but he’s had more’n he could 
manage. She is still stuck up and cruel.” 

‘‘Bound to be. The literature folks read 
makes them.” 

“You bet! Tell me what books a man treas- 
ures, what magazines he values, what newspapers 
he appreciates, and I will tell you the sort of man 
he is.” 

“I think Miss Imogene and Mr. Franklin will 
make a match team for I can’t help believing he 
is just the devil when dealing with the poor. He 
went round to the stable the other day and gave 
the hostler orders about Hugo as if he thought 
Walter belonged to him. Walter took it, but I’d 
have laid him out. If he comes here to live, .I’ll 
quit.” 

“Me too.” 

“And what do you think.? I overheard him 
and her discussing the Labor Question that day. 
He agreed with her that ‘the laboring classes are 
beside themselves. By their clamor for “justice” 
the peace of society is menaced and if they are 
not quelled, the rich class will be degraded. 
Their agitation is foolish and condemned by God 
himself who speaks to them through His holy 
Book, saying, “Be content with your wages.” 

“I laughed to myself at their effort to make 
the Bible endorse Oppression. I tell you the 
Bible is a dangerous book if only fools and 
despots interpret and apply its sayings. 


176 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


Strange sermons used to be preached from it 
years ago to make the slave contented with his 
lot. I guess Mr. Franklin and Miss Imogene 
have forgotten that.” 

While Imogene and her lover engrossed the 
cook and butler’s conversation Mrs. Vivien was 
pouring out her complaint to Mr. Hillman. 

‘^I appreciate the interest you have in my 
daughter’s wellfare,” Mr. Hillman was saying, 
^^but what proof have you of what you believe?” 

‘‘None; only that I — I — ” 

“You suspect. Well, what do you recommend 
that I do on the grounds of your suspicion.?” 

“Prevent the marriage.” 

“Mrs. Vivien! You cannot be serious, madam. 
I have given my consent to this marriage and 
cannot say it shall not be. Such fluctuation 
would sully my honor. While your hypothesis as 
to Mr. Franklin’s character may be just, we lack 
proof. Therefore, he is entitled to the benefit 
of the doubt. Jurisprudence in all civilized com- 
munities rules it so and it has the sanction of all 
fair-thinking people. If with only a suspicion 
against him I should deny him my darling’s hand, 
I should be no better than a murderer. Do you 
not see that the principle involved in such pro- 
cedure is tantamount to that which underlies all 
lynchings, the mildest of which are, you say, 
savageries that do credit to the Dark Ages? 
Would you have me deteriorate until I become 
as one of those degenerate bands who, no matter 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


177 


what wrong they claim cries for vengeance and 
makes them murderers, are, you say, sunk in 
savagery more deplorable than that of cannibals 
who roast men for physical sustenance ; for can- 
nibals do not profess to know the holy and omnip- 
otent One, they have neither read nor heard the 
Gospel of Christ. 

^‘You have argued so for years, on an average 
of one hundred fifty times annually. A grue- 
some newspaper article drew you out vehemently 
in such a vein yesterday. You have apostatized 
over night? You can advise me to-day to take 
‘summary action’ with a defenseless person be- 
cause I have the power to do so if I choose? Re- 
member, madam, the statute law and the law of 
custom with all Christian or civilized people re- 
quire proofs before condemnation or punish- 
ment, holding it better that the wicked should 
escape than that the innocent should be perse- 
cuted.” 

Mrs. Vivien knew that he had spoken the 
truth. She had no means by which to convince 
him that Marmion was a mere fortune-hunter. 
He had never acknowledged to her what he had 
owned to the fair-haired girl who vowed to have 
his case tried in Heaven. Heaven is always a 
Christian’s Court of Appeal. Mrs. Vivien bowed 
her head, and weeping left the room, resolved to 
pray. 

“Bless her!” said Mr. Hillman as he arose to 
answer the ring of the telephone. He held a 


178 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


brief conversation over the wire and soon after- 
ward prepared for a trip to the city. 

Imogene kissed him good-by in gay spirits. A 
box addressed in Marmion’s bold, cursive chi- 
rography had been delivered to her only a few 
minutes before. When her father had gone she 
went into the library and opened her precious 
box. 

The contents of that box ! They made her 
dark eyes sparkle and her proud heart beat jubi- 
lantly. They were beautiful carnations and 
roses of exquisite cultivation — no thorn on any 
of them. A plain white card accompanied the 
flowers. On that Marmion had engraved in large 
Old English letters the monogram, “M. I.” and 
written underneath, ‘‘There are carnations for 
eternal love; thornless roses are for happiness, 
free from suffering. Omens of our future: — 
Marmion.” 

Imogene ordered a vase and transferred her 
flowers, taking deep inhalations of their delicious 
fragrance and thinking happy thoughts of Mar- 
mion with every draught. 

Long after the night had descended Imo- 
gene contented herself with thinking “happy 
thoughts.” But as hour after hour passed by 
and Mr. Hillman did not return she grew weary. 
She was tired playing and singing “sweet love- 
ballads,” tired of reading “bright, entertaining 
books.” Even Reed’s “Love Letters of a Musi- 
cian” were like a twice-told tale. Imogene restored 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


179 


the volume to its shelf, but it had given her a 
happy suggestion. She would read the love let- 
ters of an attorney. They were always new and 
delightful. It was a great pleasure to review 
them. She was engaged in the perusal until the 
night was old. The last letter was read ; still her 
father had not come. 

Mrs. Vivien, feeling and looking alarmed, ap- 
peared at the door and asked if Mr. Hillman had 
been heard from. 

‘‘No,” Imogene answered, her self-control per- 
mitting no disclosure of her apprehension. She 
consulted her watch ; it agreed with the clock and 
said it was nearly twelve. 

“He is detained by business of the greatest 
importance — business that cannot be deferred or 
he would pigeonhole it and come home, Nothing 
lamentable has happened. If it had someone 
would telephone or come and notify me.” 

Just then the metallic ring of a key clicking 
at the latch was heard, the door opened, the 
familiar footsteps so anxiously awaited echoed 
in the hall. Imogene rushed joyfully from the 
library to greet her father. A weight seemed 
lifted from her heart. She felt that her fatigue 
had been the offspring of anxiety for her parent’s 
return. 

“Your arrival is the most timely that such a 
tardy coming could be,” she said as she removed 
her arms from around his neck and ceased to kiss 
him: “Mrs. Vivien was growing alarmed. I 


180 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


knew you would return. There is no fate so 
cruel as to take you from me. 

‘‘Come,” she added, taking his hand. “Come 
into the library and see what Marmion sent me.” 

He mechanically followed her. He neither saw 
the blossoms nor smelled their sweet perfume. 

“Read my card,” she continued, holding it out 
to him without looking up. He made no attempt 
to take it, so she read it for him. Then she 
looked up and saw her strong father pale and 
trembling. 

“Father,” she cried, clasping her hands tightly 
and riveting her eyes on his face. “Dear father, 
what ails you.?^” It was her custom to call him 
“father” when he seemed distressed and her feel- 
ing was one of compassion. “Are you well.^^” 

“Yes, darling, I am well.” 

“Is Marmion safe.?” 

“I have heard nothing to the contrary.” 

“Then I will not fear the worst that you may 
say. Nothing is insupportable while those I love 
are well and happy.” 

“Did I say ‘happy’.? Nay, I am most un- 
happy, child.” 

“Father, beloved father,” she repeated, cling- 
ing pleadingly to him, “tell me your grief. 
Marmion is safe and you are well. There can 
then be no real misfortune. Tell me all and let 
me dispel the hallucination that oppresses you. 
Love strengthens me to bear any burden that is 
yours.” 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


181 


As Mr. Hillman looked at the proud, beautiful 
woman pleading for that she did not know he 
felt a terrible choking. He could no longer face 
her, but turned away like those who gave the 
poison cup to him whom they loved. He could 
not witness her death-anguish. With averted 
face and bowed head he told her in a husky voice, 
“Imogene, to-night our riches are not .a reality 
but a memory. We are poor — ^penniless and in 
debt.” 

A low moan from the depths of her proud heart 
broke over her bloodless lips, but she neither wept 
nor swooned. She thought things over: They 
were poor — penniless and in debt. 

‘‘Oh, God!” she cried at length, “why should 
this thing be.?^” 

She was trembling from head to foot. The 
iciness of her hand as she laid it on her father’s 
arm penetrated his sleeve and made him start. 

“Poor father!” The simple pitying term had 
a double meaning for him that night. “Let us 
be brave. We shall be redeemed, for Marmlon 
yet lives.” 


CHAPTER XXV 


There is nothing more unwelcome to man than 
Prosperity when she comes too late — too late for 
those whom he loved most to enjoy her smile 
with him. Somehow, the sumptuous repast of 
which those he loved cannot partake is not half 
so appetizing as was the frugal meal in which all 
shared. In the coming of Fortune he misses a 
consolation that might otherwise be his. If life 
should remain as full of sacrifice and toil as be- 
fore, he could cheer his lonely heart with the as- 
surance that his loved ones had escaped the curse ; 
he could plainly see in Death a greater blessing 
than in Life, and unselfishly rejoice that hence- 
forth all the sorrow and care would be his. But 
when the bud of Hope that they, with him, nursed 
for years has finally blossomed into the thing 
hoped for, but in a tardy hour when the beloved 
have passed where its sweetness can ever pene- 
trate, oh! how barren is his land that other peo- 
ple see flowing with milk and honey. Then does 
Success that his vision foresaw arrayed in rain- 
bow hues wear the dull gray garb of Failure. 
His spirit was not more dejected when Adversity 
accompanied him ; he is often constrained to turn 
his back on the delights Fortune spreads before 
him, because she lavishes her blessings in his path 
when his dear ones ‘‘know it not”; or, all forget- 
IS2 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


183 


ful of the greater blessings into which God has 
called His beloved, he cries out bitterly unto Om- 
nipotent Omniscience, ‘Why didst Thou not per- 
mit them also to see this day?” 

Harry Tracy was feeling exactly so when he 
tossed aside a communication sent him by the 
superintendent of public schools in the city where 
he had applied for a position as teacher. He 
had very creditably passed the examination and 
was offered an appointment. Such were the con- 
tents of the letter, but they brought no light of 
happiness to his face and raised no shout of 
praise in his heart. 

Belated Fortune’s arrival was more painful 
than Adversity’s long stay had ever been, for 
while the latter tarried he had Mother, Sally and 
Hope, but at the coming of the former he had 
neither Sally nor Mother — only Desolation and 
Despair. All hope had sunk like a setting sun, 
and disappointment, like the curtain of the night, 
wrapped him in darkness. To him the world was 
void and life meaningless. Mother and Sally 
were gone. 

It is the way of the just and jealous God who 
holds the threads of men’s destinies to break 
down the idol or destroy the idolater, but “His 
mercy endureth forever.” He could have taken 
Harry and spared the other two, — the old and in- 
firm, the tender and helpless. Harry’s agony of 
heart shut out from his mind all such considera- 
tion. He thought of things only as in the dark- 


184 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


ness he felt them. Bowing his head upon his 
hands he moaned piteously while the surges of 
his grief swept around him. 

Since he had seen Mother and Sally laid away 
in their lowly beds to rest he had only once vis- 
ited the three graves on the hillside where old age, 
youth and childhood slept together. He had 
shaped and sodded the three mounds, planted 
some evergreen, and enclosed the little lot with a 
neat paling fence. All was done by his own hand 
and as he worked he thought, ‘‘Maybe they know. 
Maybe the mystery I cannot probe is fathomed 
by them. I know nothing; maybe they know all 
— know how I miss them, how I love them, how I 
am working for them yet.” The thought was 
mournfully cheering. 

Harry would always retain that little lot. It 
should never be another's. Of the rest of the old 
place he made a quick sale, for he could no longer 
live there. Though other reasons besides made 
continued abode there impossible, Harry recog- 
nized only one preventive: He could not endure 
the persecution of associations that would keep 
ever before him the days gone by; he could not 
bear to sit in the old house whose walls had echoed 
with Sally’s happy songs and know that the sweet 
singer was moldering in the grave. True, his 
heart could know no healing in spite of time or 
change; but the wound would continually bleed 
if he should dwell there where his mother’s voice 


A LOOKING-GLASS 186 

had been so often heard in prayer but would be 
heard no more. 

‘‘I know she was old and debilitated,” he sadly 
broke forth, ‘‘but why should she be called to go 
just when her age would be crowned with ease, 
just when the struggle in which she had sacrificed 
her strength had reached its hour of fructifica- 
tion? And Sally was so young. Her life was 
like an hour in summer and as sweet as the breath 
of flowers. Yet, both were snatched away in one 
short month. 0 God, if that be just — 0 God, 
help me to trust Thee still though I cannot see.” 

An angel entered his Gethsemane and strength- 
ened him in answer to his prayer. He raised his 
head repeating what had been one of his mother’s 
sustaining verses: “When thou passest through 
the waters I will be with thee; and through the 
rivers, they shall not overflow thee.” 

In the midst of his grief it had at times seemed 
that the waters would submerge and destroy him ; 
but the Word, so Faith now whispered, could not 
fail. It was firmer than earth or heaven. Hav- 
ing so eaten of the bread from above, he was 
strong to bear and even then felt the waves that 
beat about him recede like the waters of Jordan 
when the path of God’s people lay in their depths. 
Tranquilized, he arose and answered his corre- 
spondence. When that duty was done his mind 
was so weaned from its sorrow that he began the 
perusal of his previously neglected newspaper. 


186 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


He carefully read several full texts and occa- 
sionally simply noted headings. He had casually 
glanced at the heading, “Rich Man Loses For- 
tune,” when he chanced to see the name “Hill- 
man” in the paragraph below. He returned to 
the article and read it all with utmost care. The 
item occupied no prominent place in the organ 
that published it, and was very concise. It in- 
formed the reader that Mr. Hillman, through 
some unwise investments, had lost his fortune 
and that of his daughter. Miss Imogene Hillman. 

Harry’s whole thought hovered about the rev- 
elation in the last three words. He had thought 
that his noble benefactor’s daughter had become 
some rich man’s wife. Besides he had endeavored 
to forget her and once believed that he had suc- 
ceeded; but, as he read that afternoon the dor- 
mant passion within awoke to vigorous life. He 
again knew and acknowledged that he loved Imo- 
gene. Life that had seemed so empty was full 
of a sweet and new meaning: He could work 
for Imogene. He was strong and rugged and 
used to weathering storms. She was a delicate 
blossom that had been caressed by the genial sun- 
shine of life and refreshed by its sweetly distilled 
dew. She had never been exposed to the biting 
frost and rough blasts of winter. He would go 
to her and offer himself to love and serve her 
forever. Though other support had failed her 
he would be her buttress. 

“In thy strength, O God, I will bear her over 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


187 


the rocky way that the sharp stones in the path 
of the poor shall never tear her tender feet. In 
thy strength, O God, I will keep her on life’s lee 
side.” 

Harry immediately began preparations for de- 
parture. He would go at once to Imogene and 
tell her his heart. Since he had been bereaved 
of others, how could heaven better make amends 
than by bestowing on him Imogene? The cry 
of his soul was, ‘^Oh, let her receive me, or my 
heart that enshrines Mother and Sally will break 
with unmitigated anguish.” 


CHAPTER XXVI 


‘‘Poor r 

Imogene repeated the word on the terrible day 
after her father’s confession — repeated it slowly 
and weighed its meaning; then, sinking back into 
her chair, she covered her face with her hands 
and gave herself up to violent weeping. Her 
haughty spirit that had sat so majestically ex- 
alted on perishable riches seemed fallen like a 
house on sand. 

It was now ‘Tour days after this” before Mar- 
mion would return. Why should she wait until 
then to let him know? Her misery was a cruel 
burden. If he knew all he would chide her for 
not flying to him for relief. She decided to write 
and tell him all. Imogene wrote very openly: 
Her father had made heavy speculations. All 
had miscarried. Looking to the profit in those 
investments he had taken various obligations that 
he now could not meet. He had graciously 
loaned sums of money without security and his 
debtors were unable to pay ; a mortgage had 
swept away his city residence; and, worst of all, 
he had risked in his investments, a minor’s for- 
tune that he held in trust. The minor would be 
of age in six months. Her father’s honor would 
be irredeemably stained if he should fail to render 
to the heir his inheritance. 

188 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


189 


Imogene never sued for Marmion’s pity nor 
asked him to be generous. She simply stated 
facts. 

‘^The nobility of his nature will move him to 
compassion and generosity,” she said inly. ‘‘I 
will be as broad as he shall prove,” she added. “I 
will say to him that, as he wooed an heiress, I 
will not hold him bound to marry a beggar. In 
consideration of fortune’s cruelty I say fare- 
well.” 

Summoning a servant, she bade him post her 
message immediately. She looked almost happy 
as the ^^special” left her hand, for in imagery 
she saw Marmion break the seal and read her 
nervously written words ; heard him deride witji 
his merriest laugh her intimation that they were 
separated by a whim of fickle Chance; saw him 
kiss her signature and swear by it that her 
mourning should be turned to gladness ; saw him 
speeding to her, felt his arms around her, heard 
his rich, mellow voice mock her ‘^farewell” with 
saying, are united forever.” 

Dreamers dream but, regardless of their visions. 
Fate weaves the fabric of destiny as she wills. 

‘‘The deuce!” Marmion ejaculated when he 
read Imogene’s letter. “Who would have thought 
her father such a fool? Why in the devil did I 
not court ’Nita? Her only have I loved. If I 
had followed Love as persistently as I followed 
Avarice I should now have a pretty enviable 
fortune to add to my own. Ah, do I play 


190 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


cards skillfully? Fate seems to answer, ‘No.’ 
’Nita’s uncle is dead — killed in a train wreck, and 
the girl I ignored because of her dependence is 
independently rich; Imogene has lost her fortune 
and the girl I espoused because of her wealth is 
reduced to penury. Must I marry that impov- 
erished woman? Is there no avenue of escape? 
If God will not oppose me, the devil will assist 
me, and I am duller than Nature made me if I 
do not find an honorable way out.” 

He interlocked his fingers, planted his elbows 
on the table, rested his compressed lips against 
his hands and thought of what to do. At length 
he threw his head up and thrust his hands into his 
pockets. The plan was laid. 

Alfred Layman, the communicative gentleman 
whose glowing description of Imogene’s purse 
had started Marmion on the heiress’s trail, was 
in town. That was very lucky. He was as talk- 
ative as ever. That was very lucky too. Mar- 
mion would assume a distracted air, go to Alfred 
for consolation and show him Imogene’s letter. 
He would influence Alfred to believe Imogene did 
not sanction the union to which he was pledged 
and that her farewell was as unchangeable as 
the decalogue of God. As wind spreads fire, Al- 
fred would scatter the news that Imogene had 
positively rejected him. By no means could he 
be blamed for that and his honor would be thereby 
preserved. He would burnish that article by 
spending a few months in travel to “subdue his 


A LOOKING-GLASS 191 

grief.” Society would pity him and censure only 
her. 

While he was contemplating his propaganda a 
knock was heard at his door. He recognized it 
and said to himself, ^‘The hill has come to Mo- 
hammed.” He arose and opened the door, say- 
ing in a wildly sorrowful tone as Mr. Layman 
walked in, ‘Why do you intrude in my hour of* 
misery? Leave me, man, until I conquer myself.” 

Alfred, being mesmerized by the hypnotic 
power of Marmion’s subtlety, disobeyed orders. 
Full of pity, he asked Marmion what begot his 
unhappy mood. Imogene’s letter was presented. 
Alfred read it through and believed as Marmion 
had craftily prejudiced him to believe. He tried 
to comfort Marmion but the effort availed noth- 
ing. Finally he went away promising to return 
the next day and take Marmion sight-seeing. 

“He will take me sight-seeing,” Marmion 
mused when Alfred had gone. “I will claim to be 
benefited. The effects will suggest travel. I 
shall tell him, then, of my proposed plan. He 
will endorse the idea and help the rest of society 
to believe I am nearly insane when, in reality, they 
are wholly so. 

“Now for a letter to Imogene. I must write 
frankly — as frankly as I spoke to ’Nita that 
night! Dear ’Nita! My secret is safe with her. 
I am sure she has never told and never will tell 
anyone but God. This cursed trick of Fortune is 
the result of her appeal. Imogene’s pride will 


192 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


not suffer her to let another see my statement 
or to confute the lie that my prolonged traveling 
will tell if by chance it should reach from my 
upper world to the sphere where she has fallen, — 
I must write.” 

Marmion’s letter was delivered to Imogene by 
her faithful maid. Sanguine Hope made her 
hand tremble with happiness as she took the en- 
velope and, hastily opening it, began to read. 

Oh, the disappointment that shadowed her coun- 
tenance, the anger that mingled with the tears 
in her eyes, the pain that crushed her heart as 
she read Marmion’s cold, heartless reply: 

dear madam , — 

“I had overlooked the account of your ill luck in the 
newspapers and your letter was as terrific as an earth- 
quake shock. I shall travel to settle my nerves. I 
admire and appreciate your justice in releasing me 
from my vows. I congratulate myself on having loved 
so sensible a woman.’* 

‘‘Villain!” Imogene hissed as she crumpled the 
note in her clinched hand. It profited her noth- 
ing to know, then, that he was a villain. In her 
palmy days she had not asked of his character. 
She knew he was rich and that contented her. 
She barricaded her heart and mind with lies, 
heresies and time-honored prejudice to keep out 
the truth that wealth does not make the man. 

Imogene tore her letter into fragments and 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


193 


burned them on the hearth while her romance died 
a violent death. Taking up the ashes, she threw 
them out on a frolicsome breeze. 

‘^Of my golden dream only ashes remain,” she 
murmured. ‘‘Come, gracious Lethe, and bear them 
away on your current as the wind bears these.” 

Lethe came quickly, the current served her 
vehemently; she fell prostrate upon the rug. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


The sound of Imogene’s fall called in Mrs. 
Vivien who after much labor resuscitated her 
mistress. 

Early in the morning of the following day 
Imogene arose, weary and distressed having spent 
an almost sleepless night. She drew close to the 
window and began to look at life — not backward 
but forward to the time when she could have no 
servants to command. Still, the work would have 
to be done. By whom.^ Herself.?^ She looked 
admiringly at her pretty hands, caressed their 
soft rosy palms and sighed. 

With the sigh her vain thoughts perished. 
She tried to devise some means by which to liqui- 
date the debts and save her father from disgrace. 
He could not resume practice, for conditions so 
worried him that he must have, as nearly as pos- 
sible, perfect rest. Near noon she went to him 
and, while pride steadied her nerve and calmed 
her tone, told him that her engagement was 
broken. As she explained the manner in which 
it was done, a dark frown clouded his face and the 
dilated veins on his brow told her that he was 
very angry. But there was no need of bidding 
him not tell the matter to others for in a thing 
like that his pride and hers were mates. The 
fact that he could truthfully say Imogene broke 
194 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


195 


the engagement partially appeased his wrath. 
Being somewhat quieted, he listened to her out- 
line her plans. 

Caxton Crest should be sold. The fine old 
place would bring a sum sufficient to pay the heir. 
She would sacrifice her jewels, books and articles 
of virtu for debt. 

Imogene returned to her seat by her window. 
There she sat and would taste neither food nor 
drink despite Mrs. Vivien’s entreaty that she go 
away or at least take some refreshments. Even 
after night had descended and grown old she sat 
there like a statue until the ringing of the bell 
made her start. 

^‘Do I hear the bell.?” she asked. ^‘No; for 
the servants are still faithful. I am simply mad.” 

The sweet breezes rushed in her open window 
and fanned her burning face; but the pain in 
her heart and head did not cease. She leaned 
far out of her window and took several deep in- 
halations. The simple act seemed to lessen her 
miseries and suggested a walk in the garden as 
an absolute cure. She followed the suggestion, 
holding it not imprudent for unscrupulous char- 
acters had never affected the annals of Caxton 
Crest. 

A full moon was shining — the night was like 
a golden day. Imogene walked toward the lake. 
There had always been singular fascination for 
her in the transparent water, a charm in its soft 
music as the ripples broke over it when zephyrs 


196 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


kissed its smiling face. When she was quite a 
child and used to watch the waves roll after one 
another she said Apollo was chasing Daphne. 

As Imogene neared her favorite haunt she saw 
a man resting his hand on the back of a bark 
chair by a tree. He moved a few steps toward 
her but suddenly stopped. She seemed like some 
divinity. He dared not go closer for his shoes 
were on his feet and the ground where she stood 
was sanctified by the lovely burden it upheld. 

‘^Miss Hillman,” he said at length in a voice 
eloquent with passion, “grant me the privilege to 
speak or bid me go from yqu forever. I shall 
obey either order for the command will be yours. 
Answer, madam. I await your order that sum- 
mons me to life and light or dooms me to death 
and darkness.” 

“Speak on,” Imogene mechanically replied, 
hardly knowing what she said for her mind had 
borne her from Caxton Crest to Farmer Hill- 
man’s farm. She realized that he who plead 
before her was no stranger. There^ was the same 
coarse, straight hair, the same oddly-shaped face 
— its angles that no beard had been kind enough 
to soften, its broad brow, its aquiline nose and 
narrow chin — that constituted “Nature’s carica- 
ture of man.” 

He spoke while a tender light burned in his 
eyes and his chest heaved with emotion. 

“God created me in His image: God is love. 
He formed in me a heart of love, yearning to be 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


197 


filled with action. Year by year I wandered in 
search of a heart that responded to my own and 
year by year Hope was disappointed. At last I 
complained bitterly because my heart was denied 
opportunity to act — to joyfully lavish its af- 
fection. But one day in the luxurious summer 
I strolled down a country road and in the shade 
of a spreading tree saw — Ah! I lack words, for 
language is too finite to depict the vision I be- 
held. Never, even in meditation of heaven, had 
I dreamed of a fairer form. You glanced at me 
and smiled, and the sunlight brightened.” 

Imogene did not want to stay and hear more 
but the spell of the speaker bound her. Like 
Cly tie’s, her feet seemed to take root in the 
ground and she was speechless with amazement. 

felt that God’s goodness was no longer 
abstract and a hearsay, but concrete and an ex- 
perience; for. He had sent me — ^Oh, Miss Hill- 
man, do not be offended.” Imogene had turned 
slightly from him and hidden her eyes and face 
by looking down at the moon in the depths of 
the tranquil lake. ‘^I thought He had sent me 
you. 

‘^Thought of you environed me in a magical 
atmosphere that made all things golden — nay, 
it surpassed Midas’s touch and made all things 
celestial. Your being stimulated my faith in 
eternity and heaven for I said to my exultant 
heart, ‘The beauty and elegance that are hers 
must last forever amid scenes congruous with 


198 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


themselves/ With all the fervor of my soul I 
loved you. At the river I opened the volume of 
my heart but you would not read.” 

Imogene gasped for breath and clutched the 
branches of the willow for support. She wanted 
to bid the speaker cease, but, like the helpless 
victim of a charm, could only listen. 

‘‘The river flowing at our feet sounded the 
knell of my great hope. I resigned you to the 
rich and cultured and went my way, resolved to 
make an active brain and a busy hand an anodyne 
for the yearning of my love-lorn heart and an 
opiate for my memory of you. While cultivating 
my hand I covered the scope of six years’ intel- 
lectual training in two-thirds of the time. But 
neither physical nor mental labor has sufficed to 
do the thing for which my fatuity conceded them 
ability; for, ‘like some sweet, beguiling melody, 
so sweet we know not we are listening to it,’ you 
filled my life. Like the perfume of a lovely flower 
you blended with my thought by day and sweet- 
ened my dreams by night.” 

“I must go,” Imogene said. 

“You shall not go,” he answered. “You must 
hear me.” 

Any other time in Imogene’s life, had he so 
dared, she would have defied him, but in that hour, 
when her heart was overwhelmed and her mind 
confused, she was very pliable. 

“The other day, Miss Hillman, before going 
into Oklahoma where I have employment, I read 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


199 


of your misfortune. All my thought rushed to 
you. Again Hope tuned her lyre and Love came 
forth in answer to the heavenly strains. I 
started to you and reached here to-night. The 
door was locked, the lights were out, but I was 
bold and rang for admittance. No response 
came. Loth to leave, I lingered in the garden, 
and now — ” He looked at her piercingly. ^‘Miss 
Hillman, you believe in the resurrection of the 
dead.?^ — dead aspiration, dead hope, dead faith, 
dead lo — No, no dead love. Love never dies but 
is sometimes dormant. My love that slept 
awakes, comes forth and is the resurrection and 
the life of those other things. Oh, Miss Hillman! 
Say that I do not aspire in vain, say my hope 
shall be fulfilled, say my faith shall no more ex- 
pire, say my love has conquered.” 

Passion and pathos gave to his plain features 
a singular majesty. Quickened faith compelled 
him to say, ‘‘God is good; for He has kept you 
free. Oh! listen to my pleading! All I have 
I bring to you. Be my wife and you need never 
labor nor know the woes of want, for I bring to 
you my brawn and brain as I gave my heart long 
ago. These muscles were always strong;” — he 
stretched forth his arm — “but they are mightiejt 
now with the strength of a skilled hand. My 
brain is abler now than when we parted at the 
river.” 

“Pray cease !” cried Imogene, clasping her 
hands in strong appeal. 


200 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


She was distressed by his recounting his ex- 
cellencies. Love never asks whether the beloved 
is an artisan and scholar or a cobbler and stu- 
dent. 

In scrutinizing the man before her, Imogene 
had observed by his gracefulness of body and 
mind that Time and Education had wrought a 
wonderful change in him. She compared the 
transition with the washing of wool. It was es- 
sential to make character at its best; yet, it did 
not intrinsically alter that which it embellished. 
Years ago his nobility was the same as that mani- 
fested that night. His soul of love had not al- 
tered its depths nor changed its expanse. It was 
still too deep for fathoming and too vast for 
measurement. 

A tremor ran through Imogene’s veins, tears 
filled her eyes and wet her cheeks. 

^^Ah, she weeps,” said her suitor, hopefully, as 
if her tears were prophetic of his triumph. 
^‘Darling Imogene, dear — inexpressibly dear in 
poverty as in wealth.” He advanced with open 
arms: ‘^My own at last.” 

^‘No, no. Do not touch me,” she said, re- 
treating. 

He looked at her in open wonder and sad dis- 
appointment. 

‘‘Must I indeed leave you without the blessing 
my faith pledged me? Is Hope once more a 
traitor and Faith a liar.^” 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


SOI 


‘^Take my friendship, that is all I can give,” 
she said softly but resolutely. 

There was a great conflict within her bosom 
and something seemed to press hard against her 
chest as though it would crush her. The man 
drew nearer. 

^^May I take your hand?” 

^^Yes, Harry — Mr. Tracy.” 

‘^No. Say ^Harry’ again, nothing but 
‘Harry.’ ” 

He took her little soft hand and, bowing low, 
pressed his lips to it until she reminded him that 
they were only friends. Venturing one more kiss 
on the hand he held he hurried away, daring not 
to look back. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


Imogene reentered the house. She lay down 
to rest but not to sleep; she slept but found no 
rest. Sometimes the long bony hands of a hid- 
eous crone hurled her from a precipice where she 
had gayly sung and danced and feasted. Mar- 
mion saw the deed and smiled mockingly, but a 
strange winged form rose from under the rock 
and bore her up so that she was not dashed in 
pieces. Sometimes she was drowning in an angry 
stream. At her call for help, Marmion fled, but 
a veiled being sped to her in a boat of flowers 
and took her safely to land. 

Of that which happened during the subsequent 
week Imogene knew nothing in detail. Her 
father, thinking it would make her glad, told 
her that her books, curios and jewels had 
brought a large sum. The tidings filled her with 
bitterness ; their quick sale and great price proved 
how the people had coveted her possessions. 
She saw no expression of sympathy in the act 
and was not grateful. According to her pre- 
vious direction Marmion’s gifts had been packed 
and returned to him; her trousseau had been 
promptly disposed of ; and, the most important 
event of the week, Caxton Crest had been sold 
at a price that more than restored the squan- 
dered fortune of Mr. Hillman^s ward. With the 
202 


A looking-glass 


203 


surplus Mr. Hillman rented and furnished a flat 
in the city. The furnishings of Caxton Crest 
had sold with the house and land. Even if they 
had not, Mr. Hillman could have never shown 
such bad taste as to remove to his humble new 
quarters any of the costly tapestry, statues — 
marble and bronze — elegant pictures, magnif- 
icent furniture or any other things that had 
given to his old home the luxurious aspect of a 
palace. The buyer of Caxton Crest was full of 
magnanimous sympathy and promised that noth- 
ing in the late Mrs. Hillman’s room should be 
disturbed. The servants, Mrs. Vivien excepted, 
agreed to stay at the old place and serve the new 
owners when they came. It was the old feudal 
system in a new guise, — the will of the servants 
binding them to serve. Mrs. Vivien declared 
that she would ‘‘follow Miss Imogene to the ends 
of the earth” and be her “maid as long as she 
lived.” 

“I am not going to the ends of the earth yet,” 
Imogene replied with a forced smile. “I am just 
going into town where papa and I have arranged 
to dwell in six rooms. I shall give music lessons 
for the support of us both. It is not very prob- 
able that my occupation will net a sum sufficient 
for the maintenance of a maid.” 

“Housemaid, ma’am.” Imogene bowed. “For- 
get about the money. The pleasure of helping 
you will be worth more than money.” 

Imogene was thankful for such love and loy- 


204 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


alty and expressed her gratitude as became a 
grateful mistress for she was not yet that nobler 
being, — a woman. 

It strangely happened that the day for depar- 
ture came on the twelfth of July. The rooms 
where Imogene had thought to see beauty and 
chivalry assembled were empty; where she had 
expected to hear music was silence; and “What 
God hath joined together let not man put 
asunder” changed and sounded in her heart with 
a chilling horror: “What Fate has severed shall 
no more be united.” Overcome by the feeling 
as she passed down the walk from her former 
home, she hid her face in her handkerchief and 
wept. As she leaned on her father’s arm and 
went through the pretty gate by which pedes- 
trians entered and left Caxton Crest she cast 
“one longing, lingering look behind.” 

Imogene’s plans for existence on the new plane 
of life were not yet fully developed when ’Nita 
called to see her. All of Imogene’s pride broke 
down. She kneeled before the woman whose 
counsel she had ignored and whose love she had 
mistrusted, acknowledged her fault and begged 
to be forgiven. 

“Long before you asked it, even while you 
loathed me and blindly pursued your way I for- 
gave you,” ’Nita said as she lifted her black veil 
and kissed the humble penitent. 

That kiss blotted out all of Imogene’s trans- 
gressions ; Imogene’s tears dissolved every un- 


A LOOKING-GLASS 205 

just thought that had stood like a granite wall 
between her and her dearest friend. 

’Nita became a frequent visitor and offered 
many helpful suggestions to Imogene for the 
furnishing of her home. Mr. Hillman had been 
able to buy only the bare necessities but, by 
means of deft fingers, womanly tact could, at a 
very small expense, add many things which would 
garnish the rooms with elegant simplicity. ’Nita 
happened to call the day that Imogene’s piano 
was delivered. 

“What do you think of it, ’Nita?” Imo- 
gene asked. “It cost only four hundred dol- 
lars but that was all we could afford to pay — 
two hundred dollars cash, the rest in install- 
ments.’’ 

After testing the instrument, ’Nita decided 
that it would “do very well temporarily.” 

“That is what I thought. Now, look here. 
I have been trying to write an advertisement. I 
lean on your judgment again.” 

’Nita read the paragraph that Imogene pushed 
toward her. 

“I do not like the term ^Hillman School of 
Music.’ Children delight to blow bubbles. Why 
not simply say, ‘Miss Imogene Hillman is pre- 
pared to give piano lessons at her residence, 

Street. Reasonable prices,.’ I recommend 

something on that order. You could name the 
conservatory from which you graduated. No 
doubt that would help you. Hang at your win- 


206 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


dow a card worded so — ‘Piano lessons. Miss 
Imogene Hillman, teacher.’ ” 

’Nita’s advice was rigidly adhered to. The 
results were surprising and most gratifying.' 
Mr. Hillman noted with calm delight that toil 
was at least a spiritual benefit to her who had 
fared like the lilies of the field. By being forced 
to live on equality with the poor, Imogene’s na- 
ture was being refined. Womanly traits, hith- 
erto alien to her nature, were being grafted in. 
She sympathized with the poor and was always 
willing to share the burden of any less fortunate 
than herself. Mr. Hillman could scarcely re- 
strain his tears when she went to him one after- 
noon and said so sweetly, “Papa, if I may, I will 
give Irene Lee lessons at half price. She is so 
poor, but so ambitious. I know a dollar means 
very much to us ; but can we not spare fifty 
cents per week for love’s sake?” 

Imogene’s face became a common sight in hos- 
pitals and homes far more humble than hers. 
But the joy that she carried to others seemed 
never to return to her. ’Nita sorrowfully ob- 
served that she looked sad and was growing 
thin. 

“ ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull 
boy,’ ” ’Nita remarked one winter evening when 
she and Imogene sat alone In the gloaming. 

Imogene had had an exceptionally busy day. 
She had given lessons as usual, helped Mrs. Vivien 
with the housework, made a few charity calls 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


207 


and completed the shroud for an old woman 
whose burial fee was secured by subscription. 
The shadow of a smile flitted across her lips when 
’Nit a reproved her. 

‘^There is no play for me,” she said sadly. 
^^My morning has been frittered away; by and 
by life’s sun will go down — I must work, for the 
night cometh when no one can work.” Tears 
trembled on her lashes and her countenance was 
full of mournful eloquence. ‘‘How it grieves 
me to remember that I was once a foe to a people 
as noble as the poor. If theirs were the oppor- 
tunity of the rich, thousands of them would excel 
those idols of Wealth by whom they are domi- 
nated.” 

“Darling, exorcise all thought of your past 
life since memory is a torture. You have ceased 
to do evil; by henceforth doing good you can re- 
deem that that has been. But do not be a re- 
cluse. It is written, ‘Repent,’ but no penance is 
demanded.” 

“ ’Nita, you do not understand.” As Imo- 
gene spoke she sat down on a low stool at ’Nita’s 
feet. “I do not choose to suffer the agony that 
I incessantly endure ; but my sin is ever before 
me. Oh, that I had heeded the counsel of my 
father and done his will, not mine! 

“Papa was always so gracious to all kinds and 
conditions of people. High as the highest, he 
possessed that democracy of mien that leveled him 
with the lowest. He was a living exponent of 


208 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


the motto, We rise by lifting others. As such 
he has ever stretched forth his hand to grasp the 
hands of lowly people, to urge them forward 
and to raise them up until they stood shoulder 
to shoulder with him on one grand height.” 

She spoke with the ardor of a declaimer eu- 
logizing his hero. 

“Such a character is the badge of every true 
man and woman,” said ’Nita who never lost an 
occasion to speak for the right. “Genuine aris- 
tocracy means thorough democracy for democ- 
racy is the primary line of distinction between 
the superior people and the inferior ones every- 
where. Scorners make up the lowest stratum of 
society^ It is impossible for fame, education, 
wealth, ancestry and dominion to make people 
great while they are small enough to contemn, 
abuse or humiliate any human being. Fools 
boast of what their fathers were, but the wise 
pray, ‘Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner!’ Mean 
souls contend for domination — great one’s for 
justice. Fame, education and wealth simply 
gild those who possess them with an artificial 
superiority. It is the greater purity of thought, 
the greater chastity of words, the greater holi- 
ness and righteousness of purpose and deed that 
make one person truly superior to another.” 

“So I have learned In heartache and bitter 
tears. Are all great truths taught through 
great suffering?” 

“I believe so, darling, when in spite of argu- 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


209 


ment and entreaty they are rebelled against. 
History attests to it for nations, — note the ex- 
ample of our own dear land — and your experi- 
ence proves it so with individuals.’’ 

“I have suffered much; and, now that I see the 
error of my past, the recollection of it is a plague 
worse than famine or fever. The pain is here — 
here at my heart, rending it like a ravenous wolf 
would tear his prey. Oh, that a life of good 
deeds henceforth could atone for my wicked past! 
The injustices which Prejudice, the bestial off- 
spring of Ignorance, incited me to perpetrate 
against others because they were poor, and I 
could abuse them with impunity, stand up before 
me like a mountain. As I face the multitude of 
wrongs that I have done, accusing Justice thun- 
ders in my ear : ‘Thou hast done it unto me.’ ” 


CHAPTER XXIX 


‘‘Yes ! you have sinned against the Lord,” 
’Nita said, “for humanity is God.” 

“Oh, that I knew where I could find rest, for 
my soul is weary. I would die, but what relief 
can a sinner find in death.'’ Eternity assures me 
nothing but endless agony; for, only those who 
have ‘clean hands and a pure heart’ shall dwell 
on high and my hands are stained with heart’s 
blood that I have drawn in poor folk’s tears and 
my heart is foul with prejudice; none shall enter 
heaven but those who ‘despise the gain of op- 
pressions’ for Christ shall be ‘a swift witness 
against those that oppress,’ and I have zealously 
persecuted and hindered the poor. 

“I have in reserve many texts that condemn 
those who hate and oppress their fellowmen. I 
gathered such Scripture that I might never lack 
Biblical proof that Caucasians are not Chris- 
tians. How I hate the hypocrites! Whenever 
I see a Caucasian church my soul involuntarily 
cries out: Erected to the Unknown God; for 
the Caucasian does not know the Christ who 
taught humility and love for all mankind. But 
now those texts rebound against my own head. 
Is it not strange.?”’ 

“No, for your life, dear, has been a duplicate 
of — I cannot speak indiscriminately as you did 
210 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


211 


for I know that not all Caucasians are the same. 
Your life has been a looking-glass in which 
prejudiced Caucasians are reflected. 

‘‘The prejudiced Caucasians crush Negroes like 
grapes in a vinepress; you have done all you 
could to grind the poor. They forget that they 
are only human as Negroes are; surely you for- 
got that you and the poor are made of the same 
clay and shall alike return to dust. They for- 
get that they were barbarians and slaves not 
long ago, for in the life of races a cycle is less 
than a year in the life of an individual; you for- 
got that you were not a half-century from slav- 
ery and your father began life poor. They for- 
get that Christ’s blood was not less Negro blood 
than Caucasian; you forgot that Christ was poor 
although He was rich. They forget that man 
is what his character is and not what his com- 
plexion may be; you forgot that man is what 
his character is and not what his bank account 
may be. They forget as you forgot that they 
who degrade others degrade themselves even 
more ; that the wicked shall not always go unpun- 
ished nor shall the cry of the needy be forever 
unanswered.” 

“Oh, ’Nita! do not speak so solemnly! You 
terrify me,” said Imogene, looking up with blended 
horror and appeal in her eyes. “Do not say I 
am as vile as they. Surely God does not judge 
me so.” 

“I cannot believe otherwise, for lineage and 


212 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


wealth are both equally powerless to affect one’s 
w^orth. Wherein, then, is your life less sinful 
than prejudiced Caucasian’s lives? God so ab- 
hors all who scorn and hate their fellowmen — 
whether they be Caucasians who hate Negroes or 
rich who hate the poor — that, though they may 
profess to be His and in His name do many won- 
derful works. He will in Judgment say unto them: 
‘Depart!’ Even as Marmion forsook you in your 
hour of greatest need the idol, Caucasian Lin- 
eage, that many Caucasians worship instead of 
God, will avail them nothing when they shall be 
tried before the great tribunal of Eternal Justice 
for the deeds done in their bodies. ‘There shall 
be wailing and gnashing of teeth.’ The fire of 
perdition shall never destroy memory and through 
all eternity they shall cry as you have, ‘Oh, that 
I had heeded the counsel of my Father and done 
His will — not mine.’ 

“In your misfortune, Imogene, I am sure you 
have no truer sympathizer than I ; but I think 
I see God’s hand directing the blow that leveled 
you to the plane of your equals whom you had 
considered inferiors. Forced into your present 
situation, you have learned to give due recogni- 
tion to the poor, honoring them everywhere as 
men and brothers, and you own that life is an 
utter failure unless it is dominated by the spirit 
of equality. If prejudiced Caucasians were 
forced to obey the Constitution as it is and not 
as demagogues and tricksters construe it they 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


213 


would, even in this generation, learn to honor all 
Americans as men and brothers and, despising 
Freedom’s base counterfeit that lavishes favors 
on Caucasians alone, love only Liberty that blesses 
alike all mankind; and the Negro and Caucasian 
millions yet to be would rejoice that the feud of 
the races ended before their day. You, rich and 
educated, should have been to your helpless race 
like a river of water in dry places ; but, alas ! you 
proudly stood aloof from the lowly and therefore 
fought against the progress of the whole race; 
and prejudiced Caucasians, hating only Negroes, 
drive themselves backward, hinder the aggrandise- 
ment of the American Nation and steadily weak- 
ening the pillars of civilization momently threaten 
it with total collapse. 

‘^From every point of view your sin and theirs 
seem equal; for the poor are to the rich what the 
Negro is to the Caucasian: the one is a portion 
of humanity less fortunate than the other. The 
Negro should not be handicapped and scorned 
because of his genealogy ; neither should the poor 
be humiliated and despised because they are poor. 
I have known you to despise many very respec- 
table people just because they were not rich; 
many intelligent, chaste, ambitious and refined 
Negroes are hated and throttled just because 
they are Negroes. The poor, like yourself, and 
Negroes like Caucasians, have feelings which a 
harsh word, unkind looks and arrogant airs can 
wound — have ‘certain inalienable rights among 


214 A LOOKING-GLASS 

which are life, liberty and the pursuit of happi- 
ness.’ ” 

^‘But Caucasians take away our life with im- 
punity, they deny us liberty and are not con- 
demned,” Imogene cried, her face blazing with 
indignation. ‘‘I hate them for it and thirst for 
vengeance.” 

The vehemence of Imogene’s tone made ’Nita 
shudder. 

“Forgive,” she said. “It is enough for God 
to remember the evil that they do ; He will repay, 
and, though they murder and trammel us, life 
and liberty are still our rights even as you could 
not prevent their being the deserts of the poor.” 

“Oh, leave me !” Imogene cried impatiently. 
“You distress me. I am weary of my sin and 
you hold it continually before me.” 

’Nita was nonplussed. She had striven to de- 
stroy Imogene’s pharisaic estimation of herself, 
thinking that that was the first step toward 
righteousness, for while the wretched woman con- 
tended that others were viler than herself her 
hope or plea for pardon was vain. 

’Nita said nothing, but simply wondered what 
to do next. She was so young in the Christian 
faith. Only one year before she was warring 
against Satan for her own reconciliation with 
God. Perhaps an older soldier could fight more 
successfully for the relief of Imogene’s besieged 
soul. She thought of her pastor whom she 
loved and in whom she freely confided. He had 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


215 


always been so fatherly and helpful to her that 
she was prompted to recommend him to Imogene 
who seemed fainting beneath her burden. See- 
ing nothing amiss in the suggestion, she made 
the recommendation hopefully. 

'‘‘Your pastor!” The sarcasm in Imogene’s 
tone was indescribable. “He covertly would have 
you join an A. M. E. Church. Deluded girl! 
I will never go to him. Why not send me to some 
wild barbarian, for Caucasian Christianity is the 
‘twin of heathen hate.’ But the Caucasian is 
more accessible. Is that why.^^ Whatever be 
your reason, say no more for my nascent longing 
for fellowship with Christ is shattered if it be 
He whom Caucasian Christians serve. I have 
absolutely no confidence in the religion of those 
who lift their hands in prayer one day and raise 
them to smite the Negro six — those who carry 
the gospel of an all-loving Savior to the heathen 
in China and slam the door of opportunity on 
the Negro in America. Caucasian Christians. 
Whited sepulchers ! You do not need to look as 
if you think I am slandering the Church. I 
speak the truth. Who are they who curtail the 
Negro’s privileges; who are they who ignore his 
rights.^ Are they all ‘sinners’.? No; if they 
were, Christianity might seem to be a real and 
virtuous thing. But the list is thronged with 
‘Christians’ — clergymen and laity. The devo- 
tion which they have for the hue of skin makes 
their religion viler than Mohammedanism and, if 


216 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


missionaries are needed to preach Christ’s gospel 
to the Turks, oh, how much more are they needed 
to preach His gospel to the Caucasian churches 
of America! Why, the Church itself has di- 
vided on the color question and the branch that 
perfunctorily does and the branch that peremp- 
torily will not fellowship the Negro for whom 
God sacrificed his only begotten Son are Chris- 
tians. 

’Nita, leave me or talk of something else — 
anything but Christianity. That I abhor. I 
thought I loved it, but I was confused. I had 
forgotten the apathy of the Church while rank 
injustice reigns; I had forgotten how Christian- 
ity sanctions wrong. I want a religion that 
wars against slavery in all its forms, a religion 
that destroys prejudice.” 

‘^The sentiment you borrowed from our de- 
parted benefactor,” said ’Nita pathetically, “de- 
fines the religion of Jesus Christ, the Son of God. 
A religion that does not war relentlessly against 
slavery in all its forms and destroy prejudice is 
a heathen worship. Christ came to earth to pro- 
claim liberty to the captives and the Holy Spirit 
urges men to practically acknowledge the broth- 
erhood and equality of all mankind, for God has 
no respect of persons. 

“I know that not all Caucasians who profess to 
be Christians are such. There are hypocrites in 
all races. But the Northern Church is not half- 
hearted in the fellowship it gives the Negro; but. 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


217 


because the Spirit of God abides with it, it re- 
ceives him as a man and brother; and my pastor 
is a good man if ever men are good while mortal 
flesh involves them.” 

‘^Good! So are they all — too good to lead a 
crusade against Barbarity, so good that they 
must allow Oppression quarter.” 

Mrs. Henson had once told her gentle niece 
that her salient faults were forgiveness and pa- 
tience. Faults or virtues, they were very evident 
now for ’Nita forgave every ‘^erring judgment” 
of Imogene’s and continued patient. 

‘‘Imogene,” she said sadly, pitying the man 
whom she knew was so maligned, ‘‘Rev. James 
never sides with injustice even when it curses, or 
seems to curse, only Negroes for in reality in- 
justice curses the unjust and the wronged. Rev. 
James has defended Right at a sacrifice, manfully 
choosing to side with Truth rather than pander 
to public sentiment when it is wrong though he 
would thereby be rewarded with greater popu- 
larity and mercenary profit. He seldom appalls 
men by showing them the horror of Oppression 
but usually strives to charm them by presenting 
the beauty of Freedom. Last Fourth, I remem- 
ber, he so beautifully expatiated on Liberty — the 
inherent right of all mankind. No one misunder- 
stood him. Rev. James is always explicit and 
everyone knew that he meant Negroes as well as 
Caucasians when he said, ‘All men are equal and 
should have equal opportunity to cultivate their 


S18 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


God-given faculties, to profit by and enjoy the 
world that God has made for all men.’ And God 
has reserved many Caucasians, I know, who have 
not bowed the knee to — ” 

‘‘Nonsense! You are deceived but you cannot 
becloud my mind. Believe in their religion if you 
want to — I never will.” Imogene’s countenance 
was as bitter as her tone; she paused, her lips 
were set rigidly. 

“You tell me,” she resumed after a momentary 
silence, “that Christ died to save the Negro: 
His Caucasian Church refuses to take a stand 
against crimes that are premeditated and perpe- 
trated for the sake of destroying the Negro; she 
is silent and calmly indifferent while the murder 
of the Negro goes on around her. Whether it 
be lynching or proscription as to how he earns 
his money and where he spends it, whether it be 
the act of debarring him from libraries and 
parks or from educational institutions, whether 
it be high-handed contempt or furtive but studied 
humiliation, it is all murder, some forms of which 
kill the body only while others dwarf and kill the 
soul.” Imogene had spoken rapidly and passion- 
ately. She was panting when she paused, but, 
catching her breath, she added vehemently, “And 
I hate them — hate them all, ‘saint’ .and sinner. 
What Negroes do not if they know United States 
History.?” 

The question was not asked for information 
but only to extenuate her own ill will. She was 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


219 


surprised when ’Nita answered, “I do not hate 
them, and yet, I think I know United States His- 
tory, past and present, very well. I have learned 
it as Caucasians have written it; I have learned 
it as Negroes have told it to me. Historians 
have gathered for it all the flowers they could; 
traditionaries have told the whole story — all the 
virtue and all the crime, a tale of naked facts. 
Nevertheless, I do not hate the people who have 
sinned and are still sinning heinously against us.” 

‘‘I hate them,” Imogene cried bitterly, ‘‘and if 
hatred lives beyond the grave I swear to hate 
them through all eternity ! Yes, I hate them and 
thirst for vengeance.” 

’Nita’s face was sad and patient, pity made it 
unusually pale, and her voice was mournfully 
tender as she laid one hand on Imogene’s shoulder 
and said, “Vengeance is God’s; what can you do? 
You cannot usurp His prerogative. It is yours 
to forgive and His to avenge. Do your duty; 
God will not fail in His. I know, and am glad, 
that He is a merciful God but soon or late Justice 
shall be absolutely satisfied — the American Na- 
tion shall pay every farthing. Doubt it not 
though the time may seem long. The Faithful 
waited four thousand years for the fulfillment of 
God’s promise given in Eden; our American fore- 
fathers waited two centuries before He fulfilled 
His promise to them: ‘I will feed them that op- 
press thee with their own flesh; and they shall be 
drunken with their own blood.’ Omniscient God, 


220 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


foreknowing that Slavery’s brood of evils would 
not die with her, foresaw the injustices which 
tyrants make us feel, and with the image of our 
abused race before Him said: ‘They shall cry 
unto the Lord because of the oppressors, and He 
shall send them a savior, and a great one and he 
shall deliver them.’ God’s word cannot fail; it 
is as firm as His throne. Let us trust Him. 

“I am acquainted with the race situation, hav- 
ing carefully reviewed uncle’s elaborate data 
gathered on the subject in every state of the 
Union; but, thank God! His grace has preserved 
my heart from becoming adamantine and has kept 
my soul from being darkened that I might not see 
the dawn. I still have hope. 

“I hope, although I know that the lives of 
even the most fortunate among us is only a mas- 
querade. We become educated and accomplished, 
live in splendid houses, wear beautiful clothes and 
fine jewels, engage in refined pastimes and often 
seem happy; but the burden is forever heavy in 
our souls. We are wretched although we smile. 
Even in the greatest revelry we have but to pause 
and think — remember who we are, — Negro Amer- 
icans. Then the electric current of thought 
spins the wheel of memory round and it touches 
all that is legally done against us, all that is il- 
legally done and condoned, and the jewels in our 
hair become ashes and our silks become sackcloth. 
But the flowers, the music and brilliant lights 
remind us of the part we are to play and we 


A LOOKING-GLASS 




glide on looking happy and conversing gayly.” 

Imogene sat in stony silence, her dark eyes 
glowing with a bitter light that added coldness 
to her frigid countenance. 

‘^But my faith in the integrity of some Cau- 
casians makes me hope for the ultimate redemp- 
tion of my country,’^ ’Nita continued. ‘A little 
leaven leaveneth the whole lump.’ A few men’s 
thirst for independence bred the American Revo- 
lution; a few persons, standing firmly by the 
right, emancipated our fathers, — from the acorn 
the monarch oak grows ; and I will trust in the 
final triumph of Freedom and Truth in the laws, 
customs and hearts of the American people — 
trust until every Caucasian, North and South 
sides with Tyranny and Lies.” 

Imogene’s lips wore a cynical smile. 

‘^Never has there been such faith since the days 
of ‘a certain woman,’ ” she said. 

‘‘Oh, that God would grant even me my desire 
as He did that ‘certain woman’ who touched the 
hem of His garment ! Then, indeed, our dear 
country that Prejudice has diseased would 
shortly be ‘made whole.’ ” 

Something in ’Nita’s voice seemed to touch 
Imogene’s heart. She seemed to almost regret 
her sneering words. 

“You are too apt, dear Imogene,” the low 
sweet voice continued, “to judge the Caucasian 
race as its prejudiced class judges the Negro. 
That class says we are all alike, and then cites 


222 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


our worst examples. Let us add another proof 
of our superiority by being more just than they. 

‘‘Not all Caucasian clergymen are writing 
‘Leopard Spots’; not all are, like that ‘evil one’ 
of Wilmington, Delaware, urging their congre- 
gations to roast Negroes; not all congregations 
would have been so demoniac as to heed the Sa- 
tanic counsel ; and not all professed Christian 
bodies are like the Presbyterian synod that sat 
in judgment on that so-called minister of God. 
If it were not so I, too, should say that the Cau- 
casian Church is the auxiliary of perdition. 
Only some Congressmen are recommending the 
stuffing of ballot-boxes and the ruthless shooting 
of Negroes or I should say the Congressional 
Hall is a rendezvous for thieves and murderers. 
Only some states are fraudulently disfranchising 
us and only some statesmen acquiesce in such vio- 
lation of our country’s Constitution; hence, not 
all are traitors. Not all Caucasian women are 
so narrow as to stand for the reception or re- 
jection of a ‘woman’s club’ in accordance with 
the color of its members ; if none could be ex- 
cepted I, too, should have no faith in the woman- 
hood of our stronger sister race as an agency in 
effecting the triumph of Liberty and accomplish- 
ing the unity of our Nation that is divided 
against itself — part slave and part free. But 
while the dominant race still bears some honest, 
humane, Christian, patriotic, manly men and 
womanly women we are justified in hoping that 


A LOOKING-GLASS 223 

American serfs and American despots shall yet 
be free. Let us look at it so and — ” 

‘‘Lull ourselves to sleep while the heinous brood 
of Unmolested Wrong wanders from the den 
where it was born and, glutting the whole nation, 
utterly consumes us.” 

“No; but thereby keep ourselves calm that we 
may act wisely, nobly and valiantly while the 
fight is on. Our fathers enlisted during the six- 
ties to fight for our liberty. The war is still 
going on. What does it matter whether we fight 
with swords, or tongues, or pens or silent prayer.^ 
The fight is on! Keep courage and do your 
part well.” 

Imogene drew her hand from ’Nita’s hold and 
hid her face while her tears flowed freely. 

“What can I do.?” she asked sorrowfully and 
’Nita knew her mind was on her old sin. 

“You have begun nobly. Do all that you can 
and do all that you do the best that you can. 
No woman can do more.” 

“It is too late. When I ‘nobly^ began, it was 
under the influence of the fallacy that good deeds 
henceforth could repair my wasted precious years. 
But it is too late.” There was in Imogene’s 
voice the resignation of despair. Clasping her 
hands tragically she looked up helplessly into 
’Nita’s face. 

“Darling, come unto Him who will make your 
sins like wool though they are as scarlet. He 
gives rest to all who are heavy laden and go to 


224f 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


Him. He will lead you beside still waters and 
hush the tempest that Conscience has raging in 
your soul.” 

‘‘Oh, lead me to Him,” Imogene cried beseech- 
ingly, holding out her hands eagerly and con- 
fidingly like a child when its mother says, 
“Come.” Her countenance was soft and full of 
yearning. 

“If you will forgive those who trespass against 
you He will receive you and you shall find rest 
for your soul.” 

Imogene’s spirit sank hopelessly. 

“Is there no other way.?” she asked, “I cannot 
forgive.” 

“Nay, you will not; but there is no other way. 
All else that is needful you have done, but, omit- 
ting that one act is as if you omitted all; for 
there is nothing equivocal in the Divine Master’s 
statement: ‘If ye forgive not men their tres- 
passes, neither will your Father forgive your 
trespasses.’ 

“Why, darling, I cannot hate them. I pray 
for them and pity them. People who will snub 
and abuse another because of the accident of 
genealogy or financial status are supremely in 
need of moral reformation. Such ignoble minds, 
such illiberal natures are deplorable and demand 
our pity but not our hate. I pity them. 

“You talk of vengeance. What sweeter, no- 
bler, greater vengeance can human beings know 
than the consciousness of possessing such superi- 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


225 


ority that they can forgive the foe who is too 
abject to rise above the quagmire of wrong- 
doing?” 

Magnanimity looked very charming and ’Nita 
saw by the lambent light in Imogene’s eyes that 
she was ‘‘almost persuaded”; but the Tempter 
overcame her. 

“I will not forgive,” she said after a long si- 
lence. “Think how they wrong us.” 

“No ; forget. One whom we used to meet in 
your father’s library advised us to think on the 
virtues of our friends when we wish to delight 
ourselves. I say, Think on the virtues of those 
who wrong us if we would not brutalize ourselves 
but would keep alive the most beautiful and holy 
thing within mankind, — Charity. 

“We should gratefully remember the good that 
the Caucasian has done. Nothing proves a peo- 
ple’s inferiority more surely than does ingrati- 
tude.” 

“The nation is ingrate,” Imogene retorted. 
“We have labored for her in peace, fought and 
died for her in all her wars, and have never raised 
an army nor produced a single citizen to fight 
against her. Should not the flag we protect pro- 
tect us? Should not the nation we serve make 
our civil and political rights as men and Ameri- 
cans secure? The Caucasian is the absolutg 
monarch of the American nation. Who, then, is 
guilty of ingratitude — the Caucasian or the 
Negro?” 


£26 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


‘‘Dear, I wish I could positively say that you 
are not. I find sublime consolation, however, in 
knowing that it has been proved to God, though 
man may maliciously deny it, that although 
America’s strongest race is the Caucasian the 
world has no people nobler than the American 
Negro. 

‘‘I know the Caucasian race has cursed us, but 
it has blessed us too; it crushes us but it lifts 
us too. Would you not rather be the woman you 
are than an African princess.?” 

‘‘Yes; for American civilization is a marked 
improvement on African barbarity. Men are 
roasted in Africa, I know, but here in my native 
land Caucasian men, women and children whose 
claim to superiority is backed by ‘centuries of 
civilization and culture,’ in searching the ashes 
of their victims for souvenirs, add to the cere- 
mony a unique charm impossible in heathen, sav- 
age, lawless Africa.” 

’Nita’s delicate lips quivered as she listened to 
Imogene. It seemed once that she would reply. 
Then a resolution to ignore the sarcasm settled 
on her and calmed her features. 

“Do you forget,” she resumed, “that Cauca- 
sians added to our Constitution the Amendments 
that broke our father’s chains and gave the Ne- 
gro the protection of the ballot.?” 

Imogene could only remember that Caucasians 
were taking that defense away. 

“Do you forget that philanthropic Caucasians 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


227 


contribute freely to an educational fund for Ne- 
groes throughout the South? Do you forget 
that Caucasians established the public school sys- 
tem and called the Negro to the feast?” 

Imogene could not see things right and in her 
wrong-headedness merely recollected that the edu- 
cational advantages of the Southern Negro were 
very poor, and the salary of Negro teachers was 
far below that of Caucasian teachers ; but their 
expenses for living were higher especially by 
means of a monetary drainage system well under- 
stood by realty men. 

^^Do you forget that broad-minded Caucasians 
are toiling personally among Negroes to-day for 
the good of the Negro and in spite of the prej- 
udiced Caucasians^ contempt and criticism? Do 
you forget that gracious-hearted Caucasians are 
giving enviable scholarships to the Negro who 
will strive and win? Do you forget that noble- 
minded Caucasians legislated the laws by which 
Negroes are entitled to educate in the best 
schools, colleges and universities throughout the 
North? Do you forget that Caucasians, not 
simply for the selfish end of having their work 
done, but for that nobler purpose, employ hun- 
dreds of Negroes who are thereby enabled to com- 
fortably maintain themselves and families? Do 
you forget that some Caucasians — statesmen, 
clergymen, educators, laborers, mothers and wives 
— ^lay the Negroes’ wrongs sadly to heart and 
are pleading for redress, some before legislative 


228 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


and executive bodies of America and some before 
the throne of God?” 

For effect ’Nita had called the name ‘^Cauca- 
sian” whenever she spoke of the generous and no- 
ble acts that had been or were being done by that 
race. But, despite the association, “Caucasian” 
sounded hateful to Imogene. 

“Even though you do forget the good and re- 
member only the bad,” said ’Nita with a sigh that 
recruited her strength and enabled her to keep 
tugging away to “rescue the perishing,” “Christ 
is here, able and willing to destroy such perver- 
sity. He will if you will accept His religion. 
Men call it Christianity. The holy term has 
been much abused,” she added quickly, remember- 
ing that it was of that that she had been forbid- 
den to speak, “and many people are thereby con- 
fused. But true Christianity destroys prejudice; 
it wars against slavery in all its forms; it con- 
strains those who accept it to ‘forget wrongs 
and remember benefits,’ and love one another. 

“Whoever is prejudiced against his fellowman, 
whoever sides with slavery in any of its forms, 
whoever loves not his fellowmen, whoever forgives 
not men their trespasses, is a foe to God and shall 
have no part in the Kingdom of Heaven.” 

’Nita finished with the same calm dignity with 
which she had begun. She had made no attempt 
to sugar the truth but administered it as it was, 
praying meanwhile that if it were bitter, then it 
might be sweet in future. 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


229 


Imogene drew her stool closer to ’Nita’s feet 
and rested her head in the girPs lap. Her mis- 
ery steadily increased and clamped her like a 
vise and her soul cried continually for peace. 
The pitying Christ was there, pleading for her 
to come unto Him and rest. He had never with- 
drawn from her since the hour that He gave her 
out of eternity into time to be tempted on the 
earth, but she had turned from Him. She needed 
only to turn unto Him, only to surrender herself, 
only to forgive those who trespassed against her 
and He would be her God. 

She had heard older people tell of wonderful 
experiences ; had read that God appeared in a 
vision and spoke as a man when He converted 
one whose heart was full of ill-will for his fellow- 
men. But she saw nothing and heard nothing. 
For her there was even not the wee small voice 
that addressed the Hebrew prophet, but the Spirit 
that broodeth over all who seek God’s peace said 
to her in a tone softer than the silent distilling 
of dew : ^‘If you will forgive men their trespasses 
your heavenly Father will also forgive you.” 

The crafty one that goes incessantly to and 
fro, seeking whom he can devour, whispered that 
those were but the echo of ’Nita’s words ; God 
hid His face from her and no longer offered par- 
don; and, being no wiser than Eve, she believed. 

She said to herself that it was just, for she 
was only a death-deserving rebel. It was right 
that God should avenge Himself for she had 


230 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


sinned against Him as had no other and n6ne 
had been so obstinately belligerent as she. She 
had no claim on His mercy and could only yield 
to His justice. As her head burrowed deeper in 
’Nita’s lap she murmured, ‘^Thy will be done.” 

It is not God’s will that any man should perish. 
In the same moment of her surrender He freed 
her from Satan’s captivity, the “cloud of wit- 
nesses” that compassed her shouted up to heaven, 
“Saved by Jesus’s blood!” 

“And the angels echoed around the throne, 
‘Rejoice! for the Lord brings back his own.'" 


CHAPTER XXX 


Imogene, if not happy was tranquil. To her 
had been given peace ‘‘not as the world giveth” — 
peace that “neither death, nor life, nor angels, 
nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, 
nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor 
any other creature” could take from her. But 
she more fully realized the sublimity of that peace 
when, as she afterwards told ’Nita, she had be- 
come reconciled with herself by securing Rev. 
J ames’s pardon. 

“Of course he knew nothing of my former 
feeling toward him,” she said, “but I knew all, and 
the knowledge stung me. When I had made con- 
fession, oh! what a full pardon he granted. He 
fully appreciated what my situation had been 
and, while sympathizing with me in a measure, 
heartily pitied me. 

“He talked a long while and gave me many 
beautiful texts to strengthen my courage that I 
may fear not but trust implicitly in God for the 
utter destruction of that hideous idol — a color 
fetish — ^which millions worship, making the Na- 
tion mock the axioms to which she was dedicated, 
belie her Constitution and shamelessly stultify her- 
self. And he taught me, too, that Christ ‘was in 
all points tempted like as we are, yet without 
sin^; for he showed me how Christ, having conde- 
231 


232 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


scended to man’s estate, assumed a position that 
, concurred with the condition of all people who 
have been, are now and shall be. I had never be- 
fore so clearly seen that Christ was one with the 
Negro when He was on earth. 

‘‘Christ was a Jew and, therefore, of a race as 
despised, as persecuted and downtrodden as ours. 
But He forgave His oppressors, though He al- 
ways condemned the evil that they did and con- 
tended for the truth and right. That is our 
duty; indeed, I realize how absolutely impossible 
it is for us to be Christians if we fail in any one of 
those three essentials. * 

“Christ was also one with the Caucasian, for 
He was more powerful than all other peoples. 
But He never allowed ‘race pride’ to make Him 
arrogant or despotic. He could have driven the 
Romans out of Jerusalem and reduced them to 
abject subordination; but He was only good, 
helpful, humble and loving — a brother to even 
the Samaritans whom public sentiment placed in 
the category of dogs. Seeing then, the qualities 
necessary for making Caucasians Christians I 
also remembered those who profess Christ with 
their lips but their hearts are far from Him. 
My ire did not kindle against them but, loving 
all mankind, I prayed that they might be brought 
to repentance and made to know the true God.' 

“I am so glad that I do not feel the old way. 
Life is so much more cheery now. 

“Dear ’Nita,” she continued as she readjusted 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


233 


on the machine the white muslin cloth of which 
she was making a robe for her immersion, ‘‘I am 
sure your pastor lives in obedience to the Divine 
command: ‘Remember those that are in bonds 
as bound with them.’ The race question lies as 
heavy on his heart as on ours. Conditions pain 
him hardly less than they do us ; the slight excess 
on our part being due to the fact that we are the 
victims of, and he is but a witness to the harrow- 
ing injustice.' 

“Before I left him he invited me to pray. As 
I kneeled down he kneeled beside me. Never shall 
I forget the fervor of his tone as his voice rose to 
God, and his tears sprinkled me as if I were bowed 
before the baptismal fountain. He prayed that 
all lovers of liberty would look up to the Al- 
mighty and be imbued with faith like Simeon’s 
that they should by and by see the salvation of 
America; he prayed for the emancipation of those 
weak and foolish ones who have yielded them- 
selves to the yoke of Prejudice that makes of 
them baser slaves than iron chains can ; he prayed 
that the old and the young, the rich and the poor, 
the black and the white male and female, who 
have taken a stand for Justice will never swerve; 
he prayed that they who assume the awful charge 
of ministers of God will boldly administer the 
gospel and be not ashamed; for it is the sword 
that will slay injustice and like the rush ‘of many 
waters’ it will sweep away the despot’s refuge of 
lies. 


^34 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


‘‘When he again stood before me his counte- 
nance glowed with a holy and sublime light which 
made me feel that he had wrestled effectually in 
prayer and received the blessing — God’s assur- 
ance that that for which he prayed should be 
granted; and his large gray eyes were full of 
love — that unfathomable charity that claims all 
mankind as brothers and without which even the 
most angelic, most sacrificing, most zealous pro- 
fessed Christians are as ‘sounding brass or a tin- 
kling cymbal.’ 

“I know not how long I was with him but when 
I entered the study where he received me the sun 
was going down and as he opened the door once 
more and I said good-by a crescent moon was 
shining even as a new faith had risen in my soul. 
I came away believing that Rev. James is a man 
of God and that there are other Caucasians as 
truly regenerated as he.” 

One evening during the week, ushered in by the 
Sunday on which Imogene was immersed, she stood 
viewing the sky from the window of her little 
bedroom. She did not suspect that any human 
being was near her until her father’s arm went 
caressingly around her waist. 

“Oh, papa!” she exclaimed in surprise, “when 
did you come.?” 

“Just this moment. What have you been do- 
ing?” 

“I was looking at the great round moon and 
the beauty it sheds on everything.” 


A LOOKING-GLASS 236 

‘‘So shines God’s love in a sinner’s heart when 
it opens to admit Him.” 

“And the stars — How they brighten the dark 
sky against which they flash!” 

“So God’s promises brighten the Christian’s 
path through this world that would otherwise be 
dark and dreary.” 

“And I was thinking, too, of Caxton Crest,” 
she added falteringly as her eyes filled with tears 
and a serene light suffused her beautiful features. 
“The moon and stars now shine as they shone the 
last night that I saw my childhood home.” 

Mr. Hillman removed his arm, and taking both 
her little hands in his, stood between her and 
the window and looked straight into her serious 
eyes. 

“Darling, I came to speak to you of Caxton 
Crest. I have secured an invitation to visit the 
old place next Thursday. Shall we go?” 

She looked at him sadly, the tears gushed from 
her eyes to her cheeks ; she shook her head. 

“You will not go?” 

“I am strongly tempted but how could I ever 
tear myself away a second time!” 

“Think over it, child, and let me know your de- 
cision.” 

He kissed her and softly left the room. She 
remained for a while in the calm moonlight and 
thought of the tempting proposition. Long 
after she lay on her pillow her heart and 
brain fought against each other. Her mind for- 


236 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


bade her accepting a situation that would cause 
her soul to be again torn by the pain of part- 
ing from the homestead; but in her heart she 
yearned to wander again over those twenty 
acres, though the ground was bare and the trees 
leafless — to roam once more through the cottage, 
for every room was hallowed with blest memories. 
Her heart conquered in the strife. ' 

Imogene arose early on the appointed morning 
for there was but one day train running to the 
place and that left at seven a. m. She cooked 
breakfast, taking every precaution to not dis- 
turb Mrs. Vivien who had complained of a sick- 
headache on retiring the previous evening. 

‘^Bless me!” said Mrs. Vivien as she went into 
the dining-room and saw that the table was al- 
ready spread. ‘What does this mean?” 

“That Imogene Hillman can prepare toast, 
poach eggs and make coffee as well as play the 
piano,” answered a sweet voice so much akin to 
the silvery notes that used to chime from Imo- 
gene’s lips in days gone by that Mrs. Vivien 
paused and, looking up into the beautiful face 
of her mistress, companion and friend, said, 
“Well, well! How happy you look this morn- 
ing.” 

“I feel almost so for papa and I go to visit 
at Caxton Crest to-day.” 

“Too bad,” thought Mrs. Vivien. “She will 
only come back sadder than ever.” 

At the little railway station Mr. Hillman 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


237 


hired a buggy and drove out to Caxton Crest. 
The ponderous iron gate was closed, the posts 
that had been covered with roses were being 
flecked with flakes of snow. While Mr. Hillman 
prepared to open the gate, having said something 
of the host not suspecting that they would be 
in a drive, Imogene ran swiftly through the open 
entrance that was guarded by two poplars, up 
to the slightly open door of the cottage and on 
inside. Some minutes later when her father ex- 
plored the house in search of her he found her 
standing in tears and reverential love before her 
mother’s picture. 

‘‘Have you seen the mistress of Caxton Crest.?” 
Mr. Hillman asked, going close to her. 

A blush of shame for what she had done man- 
tled her face, her eyes fell. 

“Oh, papa, I have acted so rudely. That door, 
standing ajar, enticed me and I was too weak to 
resist. My restless, hearty longing to see this 
sacred chamber drove me mad so that I forgot 
decorum. Oh, that we might stay here forever 
as we did in the dear old days.” 

“Perhaps we can yet call it home.” 

As uncertain as the prospects were, Hope was 
bold and sent a cheerful ray to light her dole- 
ful countenance as a bit of sunshine cheers a 
dark room, and the light of a smile flashed over 
her lips. 

“I must apologize for my ill behavior,” she 
said after a while, banishing the happy fancy she 


238 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


thought it useless to entertain. ‘Where is our 
hostess, the owner of Caxton Crest 

Mr. Hillman had her in his arms and was 
pressing her to his breast. 

“Here,” he answered, “here on my bosom.” 

The deep draught of happiness that she drank 
in on hearing his reply intoxicated her, and all 
consciousness of what passed in the next several 
minutes was swept away. 

“How did it happen that I am again mistress 
of this dear old home.f^” she asked that evening 
as she stood watching the sparks fly upward from 
the fire that warmed the living room. “And all 
our former servants are here too, excepting dear 
Mrs. Vivien who shall come to-morrow. I have 
already dispatched the glad news to her. I wept 
when they who are here gathered round me and 
bade me welcome.” 

“Noble people! They w^ere retained, however, 
under the delusion that their lord was sojourning 
in another country.” 

“It sounds like fiction. Tell me the whole mat- 
ter, papa, please. I long to know.” 

“Through curiosity the first woman’s paradise 
was lost,” he answered jocundly, for he could 
again jest and laugh as in the days gone by. 

“Please tell me, papa dear, do.” She smiled 
most bewitchingly into his face. 

“My beautiful Delilah, your importunity pre- 
vails.” He drew her on his knee and began to 
tell her the whole truth! 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


239 


‘‘You commenced life where all men do, — in the 
innocence of babyhood. With a father’s love and 
pride I watched your life unfold as the petals of 
a summer rose. Your soul, like the dew in the 
chalice of the lily was pure as crystal then, un- 
tainted by the degrading theories which narrow 
minds exploit. But a time came when a worm 
reached the heart of my precious flower — that 
old serpent. Prejudice, entered your mind, de- 
spite that strong and watchful angel. Reason, 
which God stationed as guard over your being, 
and defiled you as Eden was defiled by Satan.” 

“Oh, do not refer to my ill-spent past,” she 
pleaded, throwing her arms around his neck while 
the tears trembled on her lashes. “Let them lie 
buried forever in the days which are no more.” 

“There! You have ceased to be happy, willful 
little Eve; I told you so. Well, after to-night 
that bitter time shall not be mentioned. 

“You were a problem that vexed me night and 
morn. I knew not how to solve you. At last I said, 
‘All men are created equal. Chance, by riches, 
gives her a false position, making her seem su- 
perior to the honest poor who are as noble as she. 
What shall I do to straighten out the snarl.?’ 
Until her own nobility constrains her I myself will 
compel her to be only equal with the poor — I will 
compel her until her rebellious spirit is conquered 
and surrenders to the Axiom that keeps bias, 
arrogance and conceit from honorable people’s 
minds and hearts. Cyrus conquered that proud 


240 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


and mighty city of Babylon by turning the 
course of the Euphrates and I will conquer my 
proud and prejudiced Imogene by turning the 
gold-stream whose unmolested flow keeps her se- 
cure in her perverse thoughts and deeds/ 

‘^Darling, I conspired against you. Knowing 
what I had determined, I refused to let the people 
return me to the Legislature lest you would rely 
on my salary to save you from want. My lawyer 
and the firm of Betz and Gilmore who ‘sold’ your 
personal property leagued with me. I deceived 
you. Forgive me, darling.” 

“Forgive you. Oh, papa, I thank you, for 
you saved me from a terrible fate — with all my 
heart I thank you. Your plan was God’s alembic 
in which he purged me of my heinous sin.” Her 
voice was tremulous and as she wept he mingled 
his tears with hers. 

“It was my money that brought such swift 
and large returns for the treasures you heroically 
put in the market. Now they are all here — the 
jewels, the books, the rare old articles you had 
been collecting for years; and ever since I first 
felt your sweet breath and the touch of your 
baby hands, my motherless girl, Caxton Crest has 
been yours and yours alone.” 


CHAPTER XXXI 


One night while Mr. Hillman, in slippers and 
dressing gown sat musing in his room he heard 
Imogene’s well-known tattoo on his door. 

“Come in pet,” he answered and Imogene 
glided into the room. Over her stately figure 
was thrown a heavy black shawl that the snow 
had thickly speckled and her hair was wet with 
the feathery sprays. 

“Imogene!” cried Mr. Hillman, “where have 
you been?” 

Imogene kneeled by his side and raised her face 
that was full of earnest pleading; her dark eyes 
were soft with a misty radiance, her lips trembled 
as she spoke. 

“I have been to the lake, for he whom I love 
stood there and declared his love for me.” 

Mr. Hillman looked alarmed. Was she de- 
ranged? Was her heart still unweaned from 
treacherous Marmion ? 

Imogene went on in a tone so low and tremulous 
that Mr. Hillman bowed his head close to her lips 
that he might hear. 

“I sought out the spot where his dear hand 
had rested on the old bark seat; I kissed it over 
and over as I now kiss your face; for I love him, 
papa. Everything that he has touched is invalu- 
able to me. I stood on the spot where he had 


242 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


stood, and prayed God to restore him to me. If 
I need name him, listen! — Harry Tracy. When 
the news of my misfortune reached him he came 
here and I met him one night as I walked out to 
cool my feverish brain. He told me that he 
loved me, wanted me to be his wife. I could not 
consent; I was not base enough to be so sordid. 
But now I am rich and long to make my fortune 
his. And then, besides, when he stood here a 
few months ago I did not know I loved him. 
Even then it seemed absurd to love a poor man ; 
but my soul could not cast him out. A feeling 
hitherto unknown possessed me. But I have 
prayed God for wisdom and He has taught me 
to know myself : My love for Marmion was in- 
tellectual madness, my love for Harry is an un- 
fathomable passion that absorbs my heart. 
Harry is the personification of fidelity, bravery, 
ambition and truth — the virtues I have always 
revered though, in my blindness, I long thought 
they were monopolized by the rich. 

‘‘Once in a bitter moment of the past,” she 
continued after a short silence, “you said that 
when next the poor were pleaded for I should 
present the petition. Kneeling here by your bed, 
I make your saying true and plead for Harry.” 
Her tear-beaded eyelids quivered as she spoke 
and “precious drops” fell on her father’s robe. 

“My daughter,” said Mr. Hillman with emo- 
tion, “if you plead for one so noble to become my 
son, though he is poor, our prayers jointly ascend 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


243 


to God and your case is won.” He placed his 
hand on her head as he spoke and seemed to si- 
lently invoke Heaven’s benediction. 

Imogene determined to write to Harry at once 
and at least insinuate that her love would sup- 
plant the friendship she had pledged him. 

‘^What is his address, papa.?” 

Mr. Hillman could not or would not tell her. 
think Farmer Hillman corresponds with 
him,” he said. 

‘‘Then I shall start a special to Uncle August 
to-morrow.” 

She covered a page of dainty note paper with 
beautifully slanted letters and accomplished 
strokes. In reply she received a number of 
“hieroglyphics” which she “deciphered” without 
the aid of her father’s “genius.” Consequently, 
on Christmas Eve Harry received a message 
signed, “Imogene Hillman.” 

On the day after Christmas a servant admitted 
a happy-hearted gentleman to Caxton Crest. 
When his long overcoat was removed it exposed a 
neat sack suit of good cloth that seemed to de- 
tach homeliness from his bodily features as the 
intelligence of his open countenance made one un- 
mindful of his plain face. Those who had seen 
him years ago in jeans on Sunday and coarse 
overalls on work days could have well appreciated 
how favorably clothes, as well as education, af- 
fect one’s personal appearance. 

The caller was announced to Imogene. She 


M4i 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


hastened down, flushed with pleasure,^ but paused 
at the threshold as a consciousness of something 
bore heavily down upon her — something of which 
her heart and brain had been heedless in the ma- 
jestic sweep of the blissful emotions that had been 
hers ever since she confessed her love to her 
father. 

Harry had seen nothing of her lustrous black 
hair that rippled in undulating beauty back from 
her brow, nothing of her dainty dress that had 
no trace of pink or any other color to contrast 
its snowy whiteness. He had seen only her 
happy smile, and her soul in her dark eyes, and 
advanced to meet her; but she stood still and 
tears filled her eyes. 

‘‘I was selfish, impulsive and weak,’^ she said. 
‘‘I wrote that I ought to have not written. I 
should have simply told you I cannot be your 
friend.” 

‘‘Because my love is requited,” he annotated, 
clasping her hands in his despite her opposing 
mood. 

“No, Mr. Tracy, I, who hated you — O sense- 
less passion! — ^hated you because you were poor 
and less learned than I, am not worthy to be 
either your wife or friend.” 

As Harry listened he felt as intelligent, cul- 
tured and sensuous persons must when, relying 
on their intelligence and integrity as a safeguard 
for their political and civil rights, they find that 
the adventitious circumstance of color which they 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


245 


had no voice in choosing and have no power to 
affect reduces them from the dignity of citizens 
and brands them for creatures less than men. 
Still he held her hands, though the clasp weak- 
ened. 

In her poverty she had learned to love him. 
Was his darling mercenary? The question made 
him groan, but he had loved her long. He was 
finally conquered by the magnanimity that was 
his fathers’ when, emerging from the war, they 
saw Oppression perish in the red sea, so they be- 
lieved, for conditions that obtain in the twenti- 
eth century were hidden from their eyes. They 
forgave those who had persecuted and robbed 
them, and were willing to live life from that pres- 
ent on the new order of things: Liberty and jus- 
tice for all; license and special privilege for none. 

Harry gently drew Imogene closer and looked 
into her sad, dark eyes. Intuitively he saw how 
greatly her heart had expanded beyond its for- 
mer dimension. 

‘‘That hate has passed,” he said. “It is dead 
like the leaves from the trees yonder on which 
the snow is falling. It is superseded by a pas- 
sion as pure as the snow and, like the snow, comes 
from above, having its origin in heaven — aye, in 
the bosom of our God. Call not the past from 
its tomb ; the present is ours. Say that you 
love me now — I ask no more.” 

Her countenance glowed with a rapturous, lov- 
ing light as her trembling lips murmured, “Now 


246 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


and forevermore I love you with all the fervor 
of my soul, my love — my love.” 

She laid her head on his breast; he held her 
close in a fond embrace and whispered low, ‘‘Sweet 
recompense for all my nights of pain and days 
of anguish!” 

— ‘the clouds have fled. 

In the unscarred heavens they leave no wake; 

The eyes forget the tears they have shed. 

The heart forgets its sorrow and ache.* ” 

Harry learned almost regretfully of Imogene’s 
restored wealth, for he had proudly reckoned on 
himself as her pillar; but, on finding that had 
her wealth been never regained she would have 
been never won, he was content. 

Imogene’s brilliant intellect renewed its vigor 
to satisfy her ambition that was all another’s ; but 
instead of an attorney and politician, she must 
now aid and encourage an educator. The versa- 
tility of her mind did not allow the change to 
enervate her ability. She had no voice for all 
the ideas to which her busy brain gave birth that 
Christmas season, but among many was her plan 
to insinuate herself into Harry’s work much as a 
minister’s wife should in her husband’s parish. 
She would, with delicate astuteness, instruct 
those mothers who had need of the teaching how 
to make home beautiful and cooperative with the 
teacher. Imogene considered heart training of 
primary importance and would instill in them and 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


247 


their children a love of all that is good and beau- 
tiful. Side by side with their respect for manual 
training she would encourage in them reverence 
for those mental attainments which lift the soul 
from drudgery and which if wanting make a peo- 
ple’s life sheer mockery. Recognizing the in- 
completeness of Harry’s training, she thought of 
returning him at once to the university, but he 
preferred improving himself through summer ses- 
sions. 

It was agreed that Harry should claim his 
bride in June. June came with roses and sun- 
shine in its wake — roses as beautiful as the 
dreams that had crowded Imogene’s fancy and 
sunshine as golden as the light Love had kept 
burning in her heart. 

Imogene’s wedding was a simple parlor affair. 
’Nita was her maid of honor; ‘‘Madam Denis” 
was there to witness the fulfillment of her proph- 
ecy; and Grace, who had quietly married a rich 
gentleman of Philadelphia, slyly reproached the 
bride for her evident lack of “sense or strength 
of character.” 

Mr. Hillman kissed a face as radiant as the 
sunny day when Mrs. Harry Tracy put her arms 
around his neck and said, “Dear papa, I share 
great-grandmamma’s distinction — my dream has 
come true.” 


CHAPTER XXXII 


‘‘She is so changed! Little did I think when 
she was flirting in and out my humble home in 
dainty gowns and slippers, that I should ever be 
so heartily welcome in her house.” 

“Our dear little Imogene was then scarcely 
more than a child. Thank God, seven years have 
been sufiicient to change an idolized, spoiled girl 
into a sensible woman.” 

The last speaker was Otto Hillman, who was 
with his brother on the living-porch at Mr. and 
Mrs. Tracy’s home. 

“How long has she been married.?^” August 
asked. “I kinder forget the date.” 

“Two years last June, and it is now October.” 

“You deserve to be proud of her — the sun 
never sees her betters.” 

“So all the people think. She has such a deep 
and unselfish interest in their life and labors, they 
are compelled to love her.” 

Imogene had been a source of inestimable help 
to many whose hearts were grateful to her for 
teaching and helping them to use all the oppor- 
tunities for good that were theirs ; and in a most 
womanly fashion she sustained their noble spirit 
in swearing allegiance to Discontent until every 
opportunity that they deserved as men and 
Americans was theirs. She was active in Club 
248 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


249 


work that elevated the plane of the people’s so- 
cial life. Believing that nothing that touched 
human lives could be neutral but must be either 
destructive or constructive in effect, she endeav- 
ored to impart a thoroughly edifying character 
to entertainments, fairs and all things that came 
within the pale of one woman’s might and touched 
the public, that the public might be improved. 

am so glad to have her nearer me,” Otto 
Hillman continued. ^‘She deliberated a long 
while before consenting to come. She never once 
thought of Harry’s promotion by the change. 
His office here is more remunerative and more 
prominent. But Imogene — and Harry is of the 
same mind — is controlled by an ambition that 
makes her always first consider where she can 
best serve the people. Wherever she decides that 
that place is, there you will always find her. He 
and she alike seek only to do good, and they won- 
dered if they could be more useful in Oklahoma 
or here in Kansas. I rejoice in their final choice 
for, besides bringing them nearer me, the ‘sweeter 
manners, purer laws’ here afford them more whole- 
some environment; the statute law takes no part 
in the dwarfing of souls and even if public senti- 
ment is masked as some folk like to tell us, we 
are still grateful; for it is kind to wear a mask 
when sight of the natural face is infinitely more 
appalling.” 

The utterance of Mr. Hillman’s last words 
mingled with a baby’s voice saying, “Get up! 


250 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


Get up, horsie as Master Otto Augustus Tracy 
toddled on the porch driving his biped horse be- 
fore him. 

‘‘Bess, you will ruin the young one,” Farmer 
Hillman said to his wife whom Master Tracy had 
in harness, “and his nurse will wish you had never 
seen him.” 

“No, no!” Otto contradicted. “Gus will never 
be spoiled. His parents love him too dearly to 
let him learn the lesson of intractability.” 

A sudden whir checked his speech. Mrs. 
Tracy^s automobile dashed in sight and at the 
shriek of its signal everyone on the porch turned 
and looked toward the drive. Mrs. Tracy’s 
machine was filled with urchins from the day 
nursery she had established and maintained as a 
monument to little Sally. The children left the 
car and were soon at play on the lawn. Master 
Tracy went down to meet his mother who kissed 
him and gave him over to the merry crowd. 

Leaving the tiny host with his young guests, 
Mrs. Tracy walked up to the spectators on the 
porch. She had the same elastic, graceful step 
of former days, but her countenance was habitu- 
ally one of sweet tenderness. A soft rose flush 
shone through her dark skin and her lovely eyes 
were full of happiness. 

“I have an idea,” she saidj^ “tell me what you 
think of it, please. I have decided to make this 
day, henceforth, children’s day at my home. 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


251 


This is Harry’s birthday. He is so fond of chil- 
dren and flowers. I have brought him a rare and 
priceless bouquet, — a selection of children and 
everyone is a flower. He shall enjoy their sweet- 
ness for the remainder of the afternoon. Just 
look there! Are they not a pretty group I 
know no bouquet or parterre ever had buds more 
beautifully soft and exquisite in color than they. 
Harry must come and see.” 

She tripped away to the library and called her 
husband. She did not find him in his accustomed 
place — a seat by the table. He stood at the 
window, his back against the casement. Anger 
was obvious on his plain face and in his stern eye. 
Imogene forgot the mission on which she had 
sought, him; she was thinking only of how she 
could restore his complacence. 

^‘What ails you.?” she said, standing before her 
husband like an angel sent to strengthen him in 
his severe trial. The merry tones with which she 
had aroused him from his musings had now been 
supplanted by anxious ones. She laid her arms 
around his neck and pleaded for him to tell her 
his annoyance. 

He kissed her forehead. 

^^Dear, I will not vex you with my cares.” 

His chivalrous nature made him opposed to 
burdening her; her heroism would not let her 
quail. 

‘‘Never shall your griefs be yours alone while 


252 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


God spares me to be your wife. Have I been go 
faithless a wife that I no longer deserve your 
confidence?” 

The gentle reproach, her caress and words of 
love cooled the hot blood in his dilated veins and 
repaired the marred tranquillity of his noble soul. 

“Dear Imogene,” he tenderly cried. “ ‘Oh, that 
the desert were my dwelling place^ — and on to the 
end of the verse. You know that you are that 
‘one fair spirit.’ Oh, the bliss in being so re- 
moved from this erring nation where ‘daily in- 
justice is done.’ ” 

His wife looked up apprehensively, wondering 
what atrocity of which she had not heard had 
been committed. 

“Harry,” she said again, “tell me all.” 

He told her as the fierce fires returned to his 
eyes: “President Roosevelt has dismissed, with- 
out honor, the whole battalion because the town 
of Brownsville was ‘shot up’ at night and some 
Caucasians say they saw the malefactors several 
feet away and recognized them as Negro sol- 
diers.” 

Imogene was shocked by the presumptuous 
claim to such superhuman vision. 

“Good heavens !” she cried, clasping her hands, 
“do any believe their audacious testimony? And 
was the whole battalion there?” 

“It appears that the President is very credu- 
lous ; but only a few men were seen and the major- 
ity of the companies are under no suspicion.” 


A LOOKING-GLASS 253 

^^Yet, the whole battalion must suffer such se- 
verity though none are condemned?” 

‘President Roosevelt’s sense of justice so de- 
crees it; he is commander-in-chief and evidently 
believes ^right is the might of the strongest.’ ” 

^^Maybe it is not true, Harry.” She tried 
hard to hope that it was false. have, ever 
since the ballot made him President, suspected 
him of recreancy; but I never conceived of his 
perpetrating a crime so colossal as this. There 
must be some mistake. Surely an injustice so 
glaring and flagrant could not be done by any 
being without the crypts of — ” 

The sentence died unended. Her tenacious un- 
belief was shaken off by her husband’s affirma- 
tion: ‘Tt is true, Imogene, beyond all doubt. 
The report is exact and given by authority.” 

She opened her mouth but quickly closed it, 
holding her lips tightly compressed. She was 
struggling with the “old man” and could not 
suffer herself to speak until she had put him under 
subjection. 

“Your spiritual position is the counterpart of 
your position in this room,” she said. “Right 
about, face!” She smiled and turned him toward 
the sunlight. “Know this and keep your soul 
serene; God still exists.” She thereby effected 
his spiritual turning around also ; for, beyond the 
scowling night against which their helpless race 
buffeted he saw the day. 

“Oppression and prejudice are relics of bar- 


S54 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


barism and must perish,” she continued. ‘‘The 
Caucasian church, wherever Christians are the 
clergymen, will be as strong and as active against 
those evils as was the Exampler who uncom- 
promisingly condemned wrong and despised not 
even those whom the high and mighty ones of the 
world trammeled and contemned. The broad, the 
truly educated Caucasian educator will exalt 
Right and divide it from Error. Those same 
duties are incumbent on the Negro church and 
school. Not for the Negroes good alone, but 
for the good of the Nation and all mankind pub- 
lic sentiment must be won over from Oppression 
and Savagery and arrayed on the side of Liberty, 
Justice and Civilization and surely” — Imogene’s 
voice trembled as she heard the laughter of the 
little folk among whom was her own child — “surely 
the Caucasian mother who loves her children and 
looks onward for their welfare through the com- 
ing years will have a kindly sympathy with the 
Negro mothers who love theirs. In the instance 
of this latest injustice that mercilessly wounds 
afresh our constantly bleeding hearts the higher 
type of Caucasian American mothers, asking 
themselves, ‘What if those men were our sons?’ 
will weep with the Negro American mothers whose 
sons they are.” 

There was a tearful silence and a prayerful 
struggle to keep her spirit buoyant despite the 
flood that surged around her. 

“ ‘Let not your heart be troubled,’ ” she pres- 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


255 


ently entreated him with a serene smile. “If you 
believe in God you must believe that His promise 
to ‘deliver the oppressed’ is sure. True, when 
we consider the ascendency of the demagogue and 
the rapine, wholesale lynchings, routings, scourg- 
ings, disfranchisements, abrogation of civil rights 
and all other injustices which the United States 
Government is ‘powerless’ to prevent but which 
we are forced to bear, it seems that they whose 
blood subscribed to our country’s Constitution the 
Amendments that pertain specifically to our wel- 
fare died in vain and that ‘government of the 
people, by the people, for the people’ is still only 
a lofty flight of statesmen’s imagery. Indeed, 
we have witnessed the crucifixion of the Free- 
dom that was born on the battlefields of the South 
and swaddled at Appomattox; we have seen it 
buried; a stone has been rolled to the door of the 
sepulcher and now the chief ruler’s seal is on it 
and the guard will be doubled, for this latest 
flagrant injustice, being the crime of the chief 
executive of the land, will increase the number of 
oppressors and make Oppression more bold. But 
God, I know has somewhere an angel — while Lin- 
coln was yet an obscure flat boatman, the Lord 
chose him to be the emancipator — who will roll 
away the stone; the strong guard will fall back 
dead and Freedom shall come forth to live and 
reign forevermore. 

“You believe in the resurrection, Harry 

Harry had a transient remembrance of the 


256 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


time when he addressed that question to her but 
his soul was floundering in the gruesome present. 
He looked into the beautiful face of his ques- 
tioner. Perfect serenity rested there like the 
calm of cloudless skies on a midsummer night. 
That peace winged his faith so that he soared 
up above the slough of despair. Gently kissing 
his wife’s placid brow he firmly answered, ‘T do.” 

‘‘Let us in charity pray for those who despite- 
fully use us,” Imogene resumed. “Any base na- 
ture can do wrong but only the noble, when in- 
jured, can forgive." 

“Dear ’Nita once told me that the relation be- 
tween the poor and me was the counterpart of the 
race problem. How amicably the differences be- 
tween the poor and myself have been adjusted!” 

Harry realized that the happy adjustment had 
been accomplished through her Christianization, 
the broadening of her mind, the awakening of her 
intelligence; for she had been the stronger party 
in the controversy and the poor were poor still. 

“I pray that the analogy ’Nit a descried will go 
on,” she continued, “and the oppressive and op- 
pressed elements of our American citizens become 
one in happy union. 

“We believe in prayer, dear Harry. Our 
fathers did before us; and, if I should erect a 
monument in honor of those whose mighty deeds 
caused the old regime of slavery to be abolished 
it would commemorate the praying ante bellum 
slaves. It was their prayers that caused God to 


A LOOKING-GLASS 


257 


so influence the hearts and minds of some Ameri- 
cans that they cried so loudly and Incessantly for 
justice, the preservation of the Union was 
shrouded in a cloud of war from which nothing 
could redeem it but emancipation to the slaves. 
They were mighty in prayer to an Almighty God. 
If their children will use that same weapon faith- 
fully they shall see the extinction of race prej- 
udice and the abolition of oppression. Argue 
with the nation! Agitate the question of human 
rights! Cry against wrong! and petition the 
Government for redress; but pray to God! 

“ ‘ More things are wrought by prayer than the world 
dreams of.’ ” 































































